Black Sunlight
by Anduria Trianys
Summary: HP/SPN crossover. Very AU. Dean Winchester killed the yellow-eyed demon when he was just seven years old. But if the Winchesters think that this means they have a chance at a normal life, they could not be more wrong. Covers the first two years at Hogwarts and the summer before third year.
1. Prologue

_Author's Note: This fic is very AU, since the idea of the Winchesters being at Hogwarts during the Marauder era always sounded like a really fun idea, but obviously wouldn't work with the canon Supernatural timeline. Also, because I wanted Sam to be easily out of Hogwarts by the time James and Lily died, I've made him slightly older than he would be in canon - he's only two and a bit years younger than Dean. Also, because the yellow-eyed demon was killed when the boys were a lot younger, John is a much more responsible adult throughout the story. _

_Happy Reading! And - on with the fic! xxx_

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><p><span>Prologue<span>

_2nd February, 1968..._

It was never meant to be like this. His boys had been supposed to be saving people from the supernatural, not becoming it! The death of that yellow-eyed demon had supposed to be what would bring their fractured family back together, and instead it was threatening to pull them apart. The journey to England was meant to have been their opportunity for a new life, a chance to leave the dangerous world of hunting behind so that John could raise his two young boys in as normal an environment as was possible, something which they had all been deprived of since that terrible night nearly six years ago. It was supposed to have been a chance to make a fresh start.

Well, it was certainly a fresh start, he had to admit. But it certainly wasn't the one he'd had in mind when he had looked up and seen his eldest son calmly standing over him with the smoking Colt held steadily in his hand. Naturally, his first reaction then had been sheer terror; while he would have been the first to admit that he hadn't been the most responsible father since Mary had been killed, the sight of Dean standing there with such a dangerous weapon in his hand almost froze his insides. But then he had turned to see his bitterest enemy lying crumpled and dead on the ground beside him, the hand that had been strangling him moments ago limp against the grass and any anger had faded to relief. It was finally all over and while John was a little beaten up, they were all alive. He had even laughed for joy when he heard Sam crying out from the car.

At last, it seemed as though they could have their happy ending, though at first, he had no idea where they were going to go to make a new start. He wasn't even sure he wanted to stay in America any more; after so long travelling the roads, so many of the memories associated with the country were just too painful. But at the same time, he knew that he couldn't just jump onto a plane without any further thought. He had to have a plan of action first; after so many years, he owed that to the boys, if nothing else.

Then, Bobby Singer, John's oldest and closest friend by a distance – or rather, the only person who seemed even slightly immune to John's unfortunate and unintentional habit of annoying almost everyone he met – had insisted that they stay at his salvage yard property in South Dakota for a while, until they could work out their plans and find somewhere more permanent to live. He said that it was just one friend helping out another, but John knew better. Bobby was extremely fond of the two boys and treated them like his own sons. That, and he was lonely and had been since his wife had been killed many years ago. Still, whatever the reason, he appreciated the gesture – it was a nice feeling to have someone who was watching out for your family – and he knew the boys felt the same, since both of them loved Bobby's place. Quite aside from it being the closest place they'd had to a real home since leaving Lawrence, both the boys had their own favourite places when they were there. Sam loved curling up in a chair pouring over some of Bobby's mythology books, despite some of them being far too complicated for a child of not quite six years old. Dean, on the other hand, didn't have as much patience for reading and would rush straight into the scrapyard and cast an unnervingly critical eye over whatever new wrecks Bobby had somehow managed to acquire. It at once amused and impressed John just how adapt his eldest son was with a tool kit and he couldn't help but think that one day, when he was older, he'd probably end up making a name for himself as a mechanic.

John's own relationship with Bobby had been somewhat more complicated. The older man was the 'go-to guy' for any leads or information on what they were hunting, since, despite having kept a diary of the supernatural for years, John hated research and would also freely admit that it wasn't his strongest point either. In fact, a lot of what was written in that diary was what Bobby had told him over the years that he had been hunting. Added to that, Bobby was also probably the only hunter who John trusted and who wouldn't be likely to punch him in the face the minute he saw him, which did tend to help matters, especially when you were chasing something as nasty as what the Winchesters seemed to face all too often.

At the same time, though, Bobby was almost like the older brother John had never had. They argued frequently, but no matter what happened, John knew that the other man would always leave the door open for them, even after that time two years ago when he had chased John off his property with a shotgun (which, he had to admit in hindsight, had been entirely his own fault, though at the time he had been too angry and stubborn to realise it). Despite all that, though, John knew that the older man would move Heaven and Hell for them if he had to – literally – and he was actually just as protective of John as Dean was of Sam, though he would never admit it, because they both had their pride which would never survive if John admitted that he needed protecting, even though he knew that Bobby knew it only too well.

The most important thing, however, was that Bobby loved Sam and Dean and treated them as though they were his own children. At first, this had bred a deep resentment and bitterness inside John, stemming from the fear that the older man would try and take his sons away from him, as well as drawing attention to the unwanted knowledge that he had failed completely and utterly as a father. Obviously, he knew that – the resentment he had seen in Sam's eyes as soon as his youngest son was old enough to know what it meant was enough of a giveaway – but it still didn't make it something that he wanted to admit. So, three years ago, when Bobby had taken him aside and offered to look after the boys while John went on a particularly dangerous hunt, to say that the suggestion hadn't gone over very well had been an understatement. John had been furious by what he perceived as his friend trying to replace him as a father and had stated in no uncertain terms that he knew what was best for Sam and Dean, and no one else. He had left in a storm of fury, his sons in the back of the car, with Bobby's shout about how Mary would have been turning in her grave ringing in his ears. Needless to say, with John in such a bad mood and the boys so shaken up by the argument which had made the floorboards tremble, the hunt had been a disaster – they had caught the demon, but not before six people, one of them a boy barely Dean's age, had been killed right in front of their eyes. Sam had, as much as a three-year-old could, made his feelings on the matter emphatically known while Dean had shrunk down in the back seat without a word and hadn't spoken during the entire journey back to South Dakota. Naturally, the first thing John did when they got back was rather nervously help Bobby clean the house, which they both knew was as close to an apology as John would be likely to offer.

Since then, John had come to realise that Bobby had no intention of taking his place as a father, but simply that he cared very deeply for him and his family, and that he was just as important to Sam and Dean as John himself was. It had taken time for him to understand that, but now that he did, he didn't know how they could have managed without Bobby. The man had always been the one constant in all their lives and, even when John hoped that, now the demon was dead, they could live a more normal life free from fear, he would still be just as close to them as he always had been.

But then, on Dean's eighth birthday, everything John had known suddenly changed.

* * *

><p><em>24th January, 1968...<em>

The day had started off normally, by anyone's standards. Sam, John and Bobby had each given Dean a gift, as had a couple of other hunters who they had met on their travels, though these had been sent in the post rather than delivered in person. Apparently, wanting John's head on a plate didn't mean that they didn't like his children, though even that wasn't enough for them to want to voluntarily spend time with the man. Still, Dean didn't seem to mind as he wheeled the little car Sam had made him – the car John secretly thought looked like a hat with wheels – across Bobby's floor, leaving thin white lines in the wood behind him. Sam, in his five-year-old innocence, was watching with wide eyes and an enormous grin as he clapped his hands, and Bobby was chuckling in amusement from the doorway.

"They're great kids, John, y'know that," he remarked. "Really great kids."

"I know they are," said John. "But, Bobby, I wish you –"

"John, you know why I gave Dean that amulet. Just because you're finally out of the hunting business, it doesn't mean that helpers or friends of everything you've killed or pissed off over the years will care. Your boys need to be kept safe."

"I know that," hissed John through gritted teeth. "It's just that I'm trying to give my boys the normal life that they should have had from the start. I don't want them to have to be reminded of hunting for the rest of their lives. I want them to play games like baseball and basketball, not have them be haunted by this crap."

"I know," said Bobby. "I get that, and that's great. You deserve it, you really do. But just because you're out of the game, it doesn't mean that what you've done will be forgotten." He dropped his voice. "I hate to bring her up, but look what happened to Mary. She got out, but it didn't help her in the end, did it?"

John tensed briefly, but sighed. "I know. And...you're right, but..."

"It's for the best. Trust me." Smiling, Bobby awkwardly patted John's shoulder before raising his voice and calling out to the boys, "Hey, who wants cake?"

"Duh!" Dean leapt up from the floor, rolling his eyes. "Is there anyone in the world who doesn't like cake, Uncle Bobby?"

Bobby snorted. "Only idjits, kid," he said. "Only idjits, and since we are not, it must follow that we love cake. John, if you would do the honours?"

"With pleasure." John backed into the kitchen and lit the candles on the cake before turning out the lights. But before he could open his mouth, Sam clapped his hands over his ears and Dean's eyes widened in something very much like panic. "What?" he asked. "Why're you staring at me like that?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "Dad, I love you, but –"

"Please don't sing," Sam continued. "You can't carry a tune in a bucket."

"But...but..." spluttered John as Bobby roared with laughter. "But it's a tradition! It's what families usually do on birthdays!"

"Yeah, but I'd rather not have to listen to a parade of dying cats, thanks," said Dean with a laugh. "And that includes you, Uncle Bobby."

"Oi!" protested Bobby. "And what about your little brother? I doubt he's exactly the next Elvis Presley, is he?"

"No, but he's not even six years old yet," said Dean. "He's got an excuse. What's yours?"

John burst out laughing. "Oh, Dean, you are a little rascal, you know that!" _Just like your mother, _he added silently. "All right, no singing. But now can you look at the cake?"

Dean smirked a little, but when he looked at the cake in John's hands, his mouth dropped. "Oh, wow!" His green eyes lit up. "Dad, that's awesome! Where did you get it?"

"What, you don't think I could have made it myself?" asked John.

"No," said Sam.

"Not a chance," said Bobby.

"Dad, you can't even work a stove," finished Dean.

"Oh, that stings," snorted John, but he set the cake down on the table, allowing everyone to admire it. "But you're right; I didn't make it." _Wish I could have though,_ he thought, but he knew that something like this was way beyond his skill set in the kitchen.

Indeed, the cake really was a wonder to behold. It was made in the shape of a sleek black car – a 1957 Chevrolet Bel Air, to be precise – with flame designs snaking out from behind the front wheels and trailing across the body, eight candles added in at different points, making the pattern look almost alive. Dean could barely breathe with excitement as he stared at it and even Sam, who wasn't anything like as interested in classic cars as his brother was, couldn't help but look impressed.

Bobby cleared his throat. "Well, go on, kid, blow them candles out."

"And don't forget to make a wish!" piped up Sam, who was gripping his brother's hand and bouncing around so excitedly you might have thought it was his birthday.

"Come on, Sammy, give the birthday boy some room to blow his candles out!" laughed John, gently nudging Sam back a bit. "Go on, Dean, then we can cut it."

"Yes, sir!" Dean teasingly saluted his family and leaned over to blow out the candles.

And that was when everything started to happen at once.

Instead of the expected small cloud of smoke, as soon as Dean blew the last candle out, the space filled with a thin silver mist, so thick that John couldn't see anything past the end of his nose. He could hear Dean squeaking in apparent excitement and confusion and Bobby muttering a colourful assortment of curses under his breath.

"Dean!" he heard Sam groaning. "What've you done this time?"

"I dunno!" Dean called back, though he still sounded more excited than worried. "It just happened! But it looks really cool!"

John let out a groan, but before he could say anything, the smoke suddenly changed into a deep shade of blue before it vanished altogether, leaving four very confused people staring at each other. It was Sam who spoke first.

"The cake!"

"Huh?" Bobby frowned. "What about the – oh."

The cake was now no longer sat in pride of place on the table. Instead, it had risen nearly four feet in the air and was now calmly floating across the room, leaving smudges of icing in places on the walls as it bounced off them. Dean, a wide grin on his face, was watching it like a hawk and following it everywhere it moved – although, it looked to John more like the _cake _was following _Dean _rather than the other way round...and judging by the perturbed look on Bobby's face, he was thinking the same thing.

"Bobby," he whispered, as the cake performed quite a stunning loop-the-loop around Dean's head, "what the hell is going on here?"

"Well," Bobby whispered back, his face full of anxiety. "I could be wrong, but it looks like –"

_SPLAT. _

"Dad!" cried Sam. "The cake exploded!"

Indeed it had. The walls and the floor were liberally splattered with jam, icing, cream and lumps of chocolate cake and Sam himself also had it in his hair and all over his hands. Dean, however, seemed to have caught the full blast of it and was almost unrecognisable underneath all the mess.

"Oh dear," said Bobby, raising an eyebrow. "That was...unfortunate."

"I'm not quite sure unfortunate is exactly the word for it, Bobby," growled John.

Dean's eyes snapped open at that point. "Oh," he said, blinking. Then, with a shrug, he scooped some off the wall and licked it off his hand. "Still, tastes good."

Sam rolled his eyes in his own special not-quite-six-year-old way. "Dean, that's disgusting."

"Oh, really?" asked Dean innocently. "Then I guess you won't be wanting any." Smirking, he reached out and caught a scoopful of cake out of Sam's hand.

"Hey, that's my cake!" cried Sam.

"Oh, so you don't think it's too disgusting to eat, then?"

Sam scowled. "You're a jerk."

Dean shrugged. "I'm your big brother, Sammy. It's part of the job description." He rolled his eyes again and then looked up at the adults, his smile quickly turning into a frown. "Woah, who died?"

"No one, kid," said Bobby quickly. "John, why don't we go out and get some pie? We can stick the candles in that when we get back."

John worked his mouth a few times, but nodded. "Sure. Boys, make sure you clean that up," he waved at the mess on the walls. "And try not to make yourselves sick eating the icing."

He didn't wait around long enough to hear his sons agree and quickly shut the door of Bobby's truck, burying his head in his hands. "Fuck, Bobby..."

"As much as I agree with you, now isn't the time." Bobby started the engine. "Come on, let's go get the pie. We can talk about it on the way home."

* * *

><p>"You sure you've got enough pie there?" asked Bobby with a raised eyebrow, nodding at the pile of boxes in John's arms. "I mean, you look like you've got enough to feed an entire army."<p>

"You have seen Dean eat pie, right?" asked John with a snort, placing the boxes into the back seat before he sat in the driving seat beside his friend. "I mean, he didn't seem to have a problem eating that cake off the walls." At that thought, however, he sobered rather quickly.

Bobby noticed this and sighed. "John, you know what this means, don't you? Dean is –"

"Don't, Bobby!" John half-shouted. "Don't say it! I know, all right? I know. I get it." He slumped back in his seat with a groan. "God, this is such a mess..."

"I know. But, John," Bobby sighed, "you can't stay here. You know that, don't you?"

"Of course I bloody know that!" shouted John. "But where the fuck am I supposed to go? There's nowhere here that they'll be safe and I don't want to totally uproot them!"

Bobby took a huge breath. "You can go to England. There are people – wizards – there who can help you. When they're eleven, Sam and Dean can be taught properly at a school. Hogwarts, it's called, run by the most powerful wizard in centuries, possibly millenia – Albus Dumbledore. He'll keep them safe, you have my word on that."

"How do you know all this, Bobby?" asked John sharply. "How can you be so sure of it?"

"Because I'm a part of that world too, John," said Bobby simply, wincing when John swerved so violently he nearly crashed into a lampost. "Okay, maybe I should drive –"

"Are you telling me that you're a wizard?" John almost shrieked.

"I'm a Squib, actually," said Bobby stiffly. "It means that my parents were wizards, but I haven't got any magical powers of my own. Sort of the opposite to what Sam and Dean are, really; wizards but with Muggle – non-magic – parents. And let me tell you," his eyes hardened, "Albus Dumbledore is the one man I would trust with my life and Hogwarts is the safest place in the wizarding world under his rule."

"I just...I can't take all this in," whispered John, pulling over and rubbing his face. "It was hard enough when it was just Sam, but...but now Dean too and..." he buried his face in his hands again, his shoulders trembling. "How...how did this happen?" he sobbed.

"You know how it happened," said Bobby, not unkindly, as he leaned over to rub John's back. "But it wasn't your fault. You couldn't have known how things would turn out. Now, you've just got to make the best of it. Go to England. I've got some friends there who can help you, people I've been in touch with."

John lifted his tear-stained face slowly. "And they'll be safe there?" he asked shakily.

"They'll be safer there than they will be here," said Bobby. "But you have to leave quickly – within the next couple of days. You know how fast news travels in our circles, John; the sooner you leave, the safer Sam and Dean will be."

"And," John bit his lip and swallowed hard, "what about you? Will you...be safe?"

"I'll be as safe as I always am," said Bobby gruffly. "Don't worry, John, I promise I'll be careful and I won't go getting myself killed any time soon."

"Good enough, I guess," said John tiredly, wiping his eyes.

"John, I coped just fine before you and your boys came into my life and I'll cope just fine after you've gone," snorted Bobby. "Just make sure you get in touch with me occasionally. I don't want you to be complete strangers."

"I think I can manage that," agreed John with an attempt at humour. "Now, come on, let's get these pies back to the house before Dean starts trying to eat everything in sight."

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><p><em>2nd February 1968...<em>

Looking out of the aeroplane window as the lights of Chicago disappeared from view, John let out a small sigh and drew his jacket closer to him. He hoped against hope that he was doing the right thing in bringing his boys here. It might be a new start, but, despite himself, he was terrified of what he might face or what his sons might face here. Sam and Dean were more precious to him than anything and he didn't know what he'd do if he lost them. Even when he had dragged them on hunts, the thought of losing them had always been there, but the desire for revenge had consumed him too strongly for him to notice anything else. But now that was over, the realisation that either one of them – or even both of them – could have been killed at any moment was overwhelming him and making him feel sick to his stomach. It was a miracle that they were even all alive at this moment, if he was completely honest.

"Hey." Dean was quietly talking to Sam who was looking around with wide frightened eyes. "Get some sleep, okay? It's late."

"What's gonna happen to us?" asked Sam quietly. "Where are we going?"

"Don't be scared," whispered Dean, pulling his little brother close to him. "This is a new start now, Sammy. All that," he waved his hand out of the window, "it's over now. We've got a new life ahead of us."

"Yeah?" A small flicker of hope appeared in Sam's eyes.

"Yeah," John put in, forcing a smile. "A new start."

"See?" Dean grinned and tightened his arm around Sam's shoulders. "Everything's gonna be fine. Trust me."

Once Sam was curled up and fast asleep, however, Dean turned to look at John, his green eyes strangely serious for someone so young. "It is going to be all right, isn't it, Dad?" he asked.

John blinked and then let out a soft sigh. "I hope so, Dean," he said quietly, sliding his arm around his son's shoulder. "I really do hope so."

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><p><em>Thanks for reading and reviews make my day!<em>

_Love, Ash xxx_


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

_1st September 1971..._

"Damn, kid, do you really need all this stuff?"

Eleven-year-old Dean Winchester smirked a little as he watched his father, John, lift his heavy trunk onto a trolley, sweat shimmering on his forehead. "Relax, Dad, it could be worse. You could have to do this for two of us instead of just me." He paused and then laughed. "Just give it a few years and you will, though!" He grinned toothily at his nine-year-old brother, Sam, who giggled.

John visibly cringed. "I can hardly wait." Shaking his head, he placed the large silver cage containing Dean's sleeping owl, on top of the trunk, grimacing as the motion caused the bird to hoot and glare balefully at him. "I don't know what you wanted an owl for," he muttered. "Surely a cat would've been less conspicuous?"

"Need I remind you, Dad, that it was _you_ who wanted him to get the owl?" Sam suddenly piped up, peering up at his father through his chestnut coloured bangs. "You said it would be easier for him to write to us."

John blinked. "Shut up, Sam," he muttered.

"Oh, that's mature." Sam rolled his eyes, sounding and looking a lot older than nine years old. "God, sometimes you act like more of a kid than I do, Dad."

Dean let out an exhausted groan. "You're both acting like a pair of kids," he grumbled. "Although Sam at least does have that as an excuse."

"I'd watch your mouth if I were you, Sam," warned John, evidently not having heard Dean's words. "You're getting a bit too smart-mouthed for your age. It's bad enough having Dean do it all the time, I don't need to hear it from you as well."

"Mainly to distract you two from killing each other," muttered Dean, glancing down at his owl who had gone back to sleep again. _Lucky bastard, _he couldn't help thinking to himself.

Sam scoffed, his expression rapidly settling into the bitchface that often preceeded an argument. "Yeah, well, at least Dean's been around enough for me to pick it up from him," he retorted.

This time, John full on growled. "I swear, Sam, one more word out of you and I'll –"

"You'll be doing nothing," interrupted Dean, fixing them both with a glare. "Because one more word out of _either_ of you and I am going to take my wand and the next person who bitches is going to get it shoved where the sun doesn't shine!"

Sam at least had the good grace to blush. "Sorry, Dean," he murmured.

"That's quite enough out of you, young man," said John, though he had backed off. "You're getting far too cheeky yourself. Don't forget, you're still only eleven years old and I can still turn you over my knee."

"The point still stands," retorted Dean. He wasn't sure where all this was coming from, but he decided to seize the opportunity before his courage gave out. "Just give it a rest, the pair of you."

John scowled. "Fine."

"Fine," Sam agreed, though he sounded scared rather than sulky and tentatively slipped his hand into Dean's, giving it a squeeze. "But only because you're my big brother."

Dean's mouth twitched. "Yeah, sure, whatever." He took a deep breath. "Well, I...I guess I'd better go," he said, ignoring the fact that he had no idea exactly _where _he was meant to go.

John sighed. "You take care of yourself, do you hear?" he said, wrapping his eldest son in a one-armed hug. "And any sign of anything unusual –"

"Dad, it's a school for magic," whispered Dean. "I'm pretty sure _everything _is going to be unusual."

John huffed out a laugh. "Touché. But you know what I mean."

"Yes, Dad." Dean let out a sigh; he'd heard the warning at least twenty times earlier in the day. "I'll be careful." Slowly, he wriggled out of his father's grasp and looked down at his brother, who suddenly looked miserable. "Sammy?" he asked. "What –" but the words got lost in his throat when Sam suddenly threw his arms around him and hugged him tight.

"I don't want you to go," he mumbled, gripping onto Dean's jacket with his small hands. "I'm gonna be lonely without you..."

"Aw, come on, dude, don't do this," sighed Dean, wrapping his own arms around Sam's back. "It's not as if it's gonna be the last time you ever see me. I mean...I'm gonna come home for the holidays and I'll write to you and everything." Gently, he tilted Sam's head up. "And in two years, you'll be joining me, remember?" He ignored John's soft groan at those words. "Come on, Sammy, be brave for your big brother, yeah?"

Sam sniffled but nodded. "Kay. Love you, Dean."

"Love you too, kiddo." Smiling slightly, Dean gently stepped out of Sam's arms – ignoring the pang in his chest that was screaming at him to hold onto his little brother and never let go – and took a last deep breath. "Well...bye, then."

"Bye, kid." John visibly swallowed, even as he tried to hide it. "Stay safe." Then, without another word, he turned and walked away, Sam hastily following him.

Dean looked at the clock on the wall; it was ten to eleven and he still had no idea where he was supposed to go. Obviously, he knew he couldn't ask any of the guards where Platform Nine and Three Quarters was – so what was he supposed to do now? He had ten minutes to find the platform and get onto the train, and there was no sign of either. Even worse, he didn't know which of the people stood around him were wizards and which would laugh in his face if he asked for directions.

He was just about to give up the thought of going to Hogwarts and rush back to his father and brother when a hand touched his shoulder. He jumped and turned around sharply, expecting to be faced with one of the security guards. But instead, he found himself facing a boy of about seventeen with pale blonde hair, grey eyes and a pointed, almost sneering face.

"Hogwarts, is it?" he asked, his words slipping past his lips almost like velvet, even as he raised a pale eyebrow. "Only you seem to be a little...lost."

"Y-yes," stammered Dean, stepping back a little. "I'm...I'm a first year."

"Yes, so I see." The older boy smiled a thin smile that made Dean's skin crawl a little. "Come with me." Without waiting for an answer, he spun on his heel and strode down the platform, apparently ignoring Dean frantically trying to keep up with him. "Now," he said, gesturing, "you see that barrier there, between the two platforms?"

Dean nodded. "I see it," he said slowly. "What's –" but before he could finish the sentence, the boy had grabbed his arm and pushed him against the ticket barrier...except that instead of the cold hard stone he expected to be feeling, he felt as though he was being pushed through a doorway full of hot air. He tried to shout out, but the sound died in his throat as he looked up and realised that he was stood in a place he had never even seen before. The train platform itself looked entirely unremarkable, but the enormous scarlet steam engine whistling away proudly on the tracks almost took his breath away. "Woah..." He continued to stare at it for several minutes until his view was obscured by someone standing in front of him and clearing his throat. He looked up and, after a minute, recognised the blonde boy who had helped him find his way onto the platform. "This is...this is amazing," he breathed. "It's so cool!"

To his surprise, however, the older boy seemed completely unbothered by his surroundings. Instead, he brushed down his clothes – smart black robes with a green and silver crest adorned with a snake – and stuck out a hand. "Lucius Malfoy," he said. "Seventh year Slytherin at Hogwarts and son of Abraxas Malfoy."

Dean shook the hand. "Dean...Dean Winchester," he stammered. "I...thank you..."

"Not at all." Lucius Malfoy was smiling, but it was a very cold and almost snake-like smile that made Dean shiver. "Winchester, right? I can't say I have heard of your family and my father makes it a point to know of _every _wizarding family in the country."

"I'm not from a wizarding family," said Dean nervously. "And I'm not from here."

"Yes, I could tell by your accent. American, aren't you?" Lucius laughed quietly. "And Muggle-born...well, I never." He seemed to study Dean for several seconds before he shrugged. "Well, I'll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose," he said before walking off.

Dean watched him go, incredulous. "What a dick," he muttered to himself, rubbing his arm where he'd been dragged to the platform. "Still, at least I won't miss the train." Shaking his head, he followed the long line of students, eventually finding himself in an empty compartment. It was rather warm so he took off his jacket and rested his chin on his hand, gazing out of the window.

But he wasn't alone for very long. Barely a few minutes had passed before the compartment door slid open and two boys came in, chatting animatedly and jostling each other as they tried to get through the door. One was about Dean's height, pale and slim with grey-blue eyes and sleek black hair that fell to his chin. His gaze zeroed in on the seats opposite Dean and with a broad grin that lit up his eyes, he threw himself across them and spread himself out lazily across them.

The other boy, who was a little shorter with hazel eyes, messy black hair and glasses dropped into one of the seats beside Dean, though he didn't seem to notice him, and ran his hand through his hair, making it stick up even more. "I really hate that first years can't try out for the Quidditch team," he grumbled to his friend. "I was all looking forward to flying around on the pitch and scoring for Gryffindor, but no..." he sighed theatrically and then put on a lofty voice, "'Parents are reminded that first years are not allowed their own broomsticks'! What do they think we'll do, run away or something?" He rolled his eyes at the taller boy who nodded in sympathy, though he didn't say anything.

Dean blinked several times. What on earth were Quidditch and Gryffindor? And why would this boy be looking forward to flying around on, by the sounds of it, a broomstick? The very thought was making Dean's stomach roll unpleasantly and he couldn't stop himself from shuddering nervously. Sighing, he turned back to look out of the window, but a moment later, an elbow nudged him and he turned to see the boy looking at him intently through his glasses.

"What?" he asked, unnerved by the way he seemed to be being examined as though under a microscope.

"I saw you at King's Cross," said the boy. "Heard your dad and your brother arguing. That's got to suck for a kid to hear on his first day at a new school."

Dean twitched angrily. "I'm not a kid," he retorted. "And I love my dad and my brother; they're the best anyone could ask for."

"Ignore him." The other boy spoke up. "He's just grumpy because of this rule about not being able to play Quidditch." He smiled cheerfully. "I'm Sirius Black and this idiot here is –"

"James Potter," said the other boy who was now polishing his wand on his sweater. "Who are you?" he asked, suddenly looking at Dean with interest.

"Dean Winchester." Slowly, Dean shook Sirius' outstretched hand. "And yes, before you ask, I'm American."

Sirius laughed. "You've certainly read us like a book!" He turned to James. "Nice wand. Mahogany, is it?"

"Yep." James grinned and tossed it in the air. "Mahogany with a core of Demiguise hair. Eleven inches long and apparently very pliable and excellent for Transfiguration." He stroked his hand over it affectionately.

Sirius' mouth twitched. "Impressive," he said, reaching into his bag and pulling out his own wand, winking at Dean as he did so. "Cherry wood and peacock feather. Fifteen inches long and beautifully smooth. Not a single bump or dent in sight."

James growled. "It's not the size that matters, remember, it's what you do with it," he said.

Dean snorted out loud, making James glare at him. "Sorry," he whispered. "Just..." but then he caught sight of the twinkle in Sirius' eye and a burst of laughter exploded out of him, making his chest ache.

James' eyes widened. "What's so funny?" he spluttered, glancing at Sirius. "I only said..." but then he saw that Sirius was laughing as well and he turned bright red. "Oh, you...get your minds out of the gutter!" He then rounded on Dean. "And what about your wand, anyway?"

"Rowan," said Dean. "Thirteen inches with a dragon heartstring core. Hold on." He bent down to reach for his trunk, but as he did so he knocked his jacket off the seat, dislodging a photograph from his pocket. "Shit," he hissed, reaching out for it, but it was too late; even as he picked it up, James and Sirius had already seen. Sirius, for his part, seemed to know exactly who the picture was of, but there was no such luck with James.

"Who's she?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at Dean. "Your girlfriend?" he joked, snickering.

"James," Sirius hissed warningly.

"No," said Dean quietly, clutching the photograph. "She's my mother."

James blinked. "You're actually carrying a picture of your mother around with you?" he almost laughed. "Why? Do you _want _to get picked on for being a mummy's boy?"

"Shut up, James!" snapped Sirius. "She's beautiful, Dean," he said smiling. "You...you look just like her."

"Thanks," muttered Dean, feeling his cheeks burn. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Sirius giving James a meaningful look and he felt a surge of gratitude towards him.

But James would not be deterred. "So, how come she wasn't at the station with your dad and your brother?" he asked, ignoring Sirius's frantic gestures to be quiet. "I mean, even if she's seperated from your dad, surely she'd want to come and see her son off to school?"

"James!" hissed Sirius. "Shut up for goodness sake!"

"I'm just curious," retorted James. "Aren't you curious at all?"

"Just shut up." Now, Sirius sounded like he was talking through gritted teeth. "Can't you see that you're upsetting him?"

"I only asked!" James seemed to be getting defensive. "I mean, my mum always came to see me off. I just wondered why –"

"Because she's dead." Dean's voice was so quiet he barely heard it himself. In fact, it wasn't until he saw the other boys looking at him that he realised what he'd said.

"What?" asked James.

"I said she's dead." Suddenly, Dean was furious as well as upset. "That's why she didn't come to see me off. Because she died when my six-month-old brother's nursery was burned and he nearly died as well!"

Sirius sighed. "Dean –"

"Don't!" Jumping to his feet, Dean grabbed his trunk and his jacket and stormed out of the compartment, almost blinded by tears. "Just don't." Without waiting for a response, he dragged his trunk down the train before he finally came to another compartment. He didn't bother to take in any of his new surroundings, preferring to just sit down and try to calm himself. Angrily, he wiped at the tears that had started to fall down his face and took several deep calming breaths, his hands still holding the picture, gently but firmly before he finally placed it back in his pocket.

"Love you, Mom," he whispered, swallowing a few fresh tears. "Always." Sighing, he rested his head against the window, relaxing at the cool feeling of the glass against his sore head. He wasn't sure how long they'd been travelling, but he already felt completely worn out. He almost didn't notice a pleasant witch coming round with a trolley full of snacks, but he managed to rouse himself enough to pick a few things – none of which he actually knew anything about – and to force enough of a smile to reassure the concerned woman that he was all right, just a little nervous about going to Hogwarts. It was true, he _was _nervous about it, but more than that, he just felt as if a massive hole in his heart had been ripped open just as it was healing.

"_She's beautiful, Dean...you look just like her."_

Although he knew that Sirius' words had been meant to be comforting and he appreciated him trying to tell James to be quiet, Dean had actually felt as though he'd been stabbed in the gut. He knew that he looked like his mother, but he hated being reminded of it over and over again. He'd heard his father say it, both to him, and one night, when he was five years old, even to Bobby, and those words would stay with him and haunt him for the rest of his life.

"_I can hardly bring myself to look at him, Bobby," five-year-old Dean heard John sobbing. "He's my son, but...but when I look at him..."_

"_John." Bobby's voice was firm but gentle. "John, your kids need you. I know it's hard, but you've got to keep going for their sakes. You've got to be their father."_

"_How?" gasped John. "How can I be a good father to them when Sam will barely talk to me and I can't even look Dean in the face?" _

"_You have to try. For Mary's sake, you have to try."_

"_I have tried!" John was shouting even through his tears. "God, Bobby, I've tried! But every time I look at him, I just...he reminds me of her! He even...he has her eyes!" _

"_But he's not her." Bobby's voice was muffled by John's renewed sobs. "Dean is not a reincarnation of your dead wife, John. He's your son. You must see that." _

"_I can't." _

The memory of that night made Dean feel sick to his stomach, just as it always did. Ever since that day, he had tried hard to be more like his father in the hopes that maybe, just maybe, John could actually look at him and not immediately think of his dead wife. It had worked, he supposed; his father had definitely looked at him after that. Looked at him like a soldier who would follow his every order, no matter what it was. It certainly seemed to hurt him less, so Dean took that as a victory. It seemed a hollow victory, though, because he just seemed to be John's pawn rather than his son. He had never told anyone this – there was no reason for them to know – although he felt sure that Sam had suspected something.

"I was so stupid, Mom," he muttered, staring at the picture through tear-filled eyes. "I thought that...that if I could just...be like Dad...if he could look at me without being reminded of you all the time...I thought he could actually be like he was before..." He pressed his forehead against the back of the seat, frantically trying, and failing, to blink the tears away. "Shows how much I knew, doesn't it?" he mumbled against the fabric while he tried to get his breathing under control.

"Hey, are you okay?"

Dean jumped at the voice and turned round to see a pale and thin boy about his age with light brown hair and hazel eyes. He was wearing threadbare jeans and an old grey jacket and Dean felt a rush of protective affection towards him; he looked just like a slightly older version of his own little brother.

"I'm fine," he said hastily, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. "Just...nerves, I guess. Do you want to sit here?"

"Thanks." The boy dragged his trunk over the threshold, stumbling slightly and sat down. "First year?"

"Yeah." Dean slipped the picture in his pocket. "You?"

"Yeah." The boy smiled and stuck out a hand. "Remus Lupin. Yes, it's my real name, my parents had a thing for ancient history, and no I do not have a twin brother called Romulus."

Dean laughed, he liked this boy already. "I'm Dean Winchester. Yes, I'm American and, since we're baring our souls, the woman in the picture you saw is my mother and she died when I was little and, no, I really don't want to talk about it." He realised that might have been a little abrupt when Remus blinked in surprise. "Sorry. I just get that a lot."

Remus smiled softly. "It's fine. So, where did you come over here from?"

"I was...I was born in Kansas," murmured Dean. "But...after my mom died, we kind of moved around a lot." He breathed a mental sigh of relief when Remus didn't ask why. "We – my dad, my little brother, and I – came here just after my eighth birthday. New start and all that, you know."

"Yeah, I know." Remus shrugged off his coat while he spoke. "Just want to get away from the bad memories, I guess?"

Dean nodded, but then caught sight of several angry red scars on the other boy's arm. He bent forward, frowning. "What the hell happened to you?" he gasped, protective instincts suddenly rising, in much the same way as they would if it was Sam he was looking at.

Remus's eyes widened for a split second but then he forced a smile. "Oh, I'm clumsy," he said sheepishly. "I've had a rather annoying habit of falling into bushes full of sharp thorns ever since I was little, including a memorable incident when I once fell off my bike into a blackberry bush that was also full of stinging nettles."

"Nasty," said Dean, though inwardly he was frowning. Alarm bells had started ringing in his head at the sight of the scars, though he couldn't quite put his finger on exactly why. But he didn't have time to think any further on it, because the door opened to admit two other people; a girl with long dark red hair and bright emerald eyes and a pale-faced boy with black hair and tunnel-like black eyes that seemed to see into your very soul. Dean fought back the urge to squirm and instead shuffled over to make room for them.

"Thanks," said the girl as she sat down. "Everywhere else was full."

"Everywhere else with decent company, you mean," the boy added, his voice quiet and smooth as his eyes travelled around the compartment. "The name's Snape. Severus Snape."

"And I'm Lily Evans," said the girl. "Who're you two?"

Remus smiled shyly. "I'm Remus Lupin."

"Dean Winchester," said Dean a little tiredly; he felt as though he'd said his name a hundred times already.

Lily blinked at him. "Winchester?" she repeated. "I'm sure I've heard of your name in a book; can't remember which one, though. Are you related to any important wizards or something?"

Dean snorted. "I doubt it. I'm...what's the word? Muggle-born." He said it slightly defensively, almost expecting his new friends – if he could call them that at this early stage – to laugh at him.

But Lily smiled. "I am too," she said. "My entire family are Muggles. It's almost a shame, really."

"Why?" asked Severus, speaking for the first time since introducing himself. "I thought you were excited about coming to Hogwarts."

"Oh, I am!" exclaimed Lily. "But magic is something my parents can never really understand. And Tuney..." she let out a deep and sad sigh.

"Who's Tuney?" asked Remus, raising an eyebrow.

"My older sister, Petunia," answered Lily. "We used to get on, but...now she hates me. She thinks I'm a...a freak." The last word was almost whispered.

Remus bit his lip sympathetically, but Dean felt a rush of anger. "That's not fair," he almost growled. "And it's certainly not how an older sibling should treat a younger sibling." He shook his head in disgust. "She doesn't deserve to have you as a sister if that's how she's going to treat you, Lily."

Everyone stared at him, startled. "You're...you're a big brother, aren't you?" Severus asked.

"Yeah," said Dean. "And, let me tell you, some of the proudest moments of my life have been watching Sam grow up. I can still remember the first day he walked, the first day he talked...the first day he accidentally turned our dad's hair bright pink!" he added with a laugh.

"He didn't!" gasped Lily.

"He did," chuckled Dean. "He was three years old and I'd never seen him look more confused, shocked and amused at the same time in his life!"

"You weren't freaked out?" asked Remus.

"Freaked out? Hell no – I thought it was the coolest thing I'd ever seen in my life!" retorted Dean. "Obviously, I knew that not everyone would see it that way, so I just took it upon myself to protect him even more. If the wrong people had found out about him..." he shuddered.

"It wouldn't have been pretty." Severus was watching Dean with interest. "What about your magic?"

"Mine developed a couple of years later," said Dean quietly. "At the time, none of us knew what was going on, but we had a few friends who told us to come here. Dad had been thinking of leaving America for a while – he wanted to make a new start – so...we did. And, well, the rest is history, I guess."

There was silence for several minutes before Lily spoke. "Sam's really lucky to have you," she said.

Dean shook his head. "I'm lucky to have him. He's the best little brother I could ask for." At that moment, it occurred to him, as it often did, just how close he had come to losing Sam, not just on that night of the fire that had changed their lives, but so often before they had come to England. If he had lost him...he shivered; it didn't even bear thinking about. "I'm just his pain-in-the-ass big brother, really."

"His pain-in-the-ass big brother who'd do anything for him," corrected Remus. "I saw your face when you talked about him. You looked as if he was the most important thing in your life."

"That's just being a good sibling," stammered Dean, feeling himself blush. "It's how older siblings should treat their younger brothers or sisters. Sure, you might get on each other's nerves, but you're still family. And there's nothing more important than family." He smiled nervously at Lily. "And if your sister can't look past your magic and see that, then she's not worthy of being your sister."

Lily stared at him for several seconds and then, to Dean's dismay, her eyes suddenly began to fill with tears. Her mouth trembled a little and then she launched herself straight into his arms. Remus covered his mouth with one hand to cover his giggles and even Severus grinned a little. Dean, however, looked at them in confusion.

"Was...was it something I said?"

Severus rolled his eyes. "I think you might have just made her day," he said, leaning over so that he could pat Lily on the back.

Lily looked up and blushed. "Sorry," she murmured, untangling herself from Dean.

"Ah, it's okay," said Dean, shrugging and then quickly, to change the subject, he said, "So...what're Quidditch and Gryffindor?"

"Gryffindor is one of the Hogwarts houses," said Remus. "Apparently, Dumbledore was one when he was at Hogwarts. Quidditch is the sport of wizards. It's played on a broomstick. I've never seen it played, but it sounds pretty spectacular to watch."

"It sounds terrifying to play, though," said Lily, shivering. "Why would anyone want to be suspended in the air with only a piece of wood for support?"

Dean heartily agreed.

* * *

><p><em>Please read and review, it'd make my day! :)<em>

_Ash xxx_


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"So, which house do you think you'll be in, Dean?" asked Lily, smoothing down her new Hogwarts robes. They had finally arrived and the last ten minutes had been a mad scramble with everyone rushing to change into their robes. Remus's were a little short and fraying round the sleeves, but he didn't say anything about it and neither did any of the others.

"I don't really know any of them, apart from Gryffindor, and even that only by name," admitted Dean. "I didn't exactly come prepared with armfuls of knowledge about this place."

"Well, according to _Hogwarts, A History_, the founders of each of the four houses value certain traits in their students," said Lily. "Gryffindor values bravery and courage, Hufflepuffs are patient, kind and loyal, Ravenclaw places its stock in knowledge –"

"Probably not where I'll be sorted then," muttered Dean.

"And Slytherin," continued Lily as if she hadn't heard him, "Slytherins are...cunning and resourceful, but they're also very ambitious. They also have a great sense of keeping with traditional values."

"Which means," said a voice from behind them and Dean turned around to see James Potter and Sirius Black joining the throng of students leaving the train, "that they're very selective about the backgrounds of their students."

"Selective?" Dean frowned at Sirius. "What do you mean?"

"Well, put it this way," said a drawling voice that set Dean on edge, even though he'd only heard it once so far, "you'd be the last person to be sorted there, with your family."

Sirius whipped round to face Lucius Malfoy. "Shove off," he growled.

"Well, well, that's hardly language befitting a Black," scoffed Malfoy, staring down his pointed face at Sirius. "But then again, I hear that there are many things about you that do not befit a Black."

"That's right, Malfoy, there are," said Sirius calmly. "But as you may have noticed, I am not exactly your average Black."

"So I see," said Malfoy, firing a contemptuous glance towards Dean and Lily before he pushed his way through the crowds, his blonde hair flowing gracefully behind him.

Sirius grimaced. "I can't believe I'm actually going to be related to him in a couple of years," he grumbled. "Still, he's marrying my cousin 'Cissy, so I guess it's only related by marriage. But he's basically an example of your stereotypical Slytherin."

"Meaning?" asked Dean.

"Meaning he's a git," interjected James. "The entire Malfoy and Black families are up to their necks in the Dark Arts – present company excluded, of course," he added, sending an apologetic look in Sirius's direction.

Lily bristled a little. "I'm sure not all Slytherins are bad," she said.

James snorted. "You just wait and see. Slytherin has a reputation for spitting out Dark Wizards, mark my words. I would bet there's not a witch or wizard who went bad who wasn't in Slytherin." He dropped his voice. "From what I hear, You-Know-Who was one when he was at Hogwarts."

Dean didn't 'know who' at all, but before he could ask, Lily retorted, "Maybe, but that doesn't mean all Slytherins are evil. Some of them might actually be nice."

James scowled. "Yeah, sure, whatever."

"Hey, Dean," said Sirius. "I just wanted to say I'm sorry about what James said earlier. He never meant to upset you, you know that, right?"

"I know," said Dean, pushing away the stab of pain he felt at the reminder. "And...thanks for trying to get him to back off."

"What happened?" asked Remus, speaking for the first time.

"A lot of awkward questions," sighed Sirius with a careful glance at Dean. "James isn't a bad person, but he doesn't seem to know when to keep quiet."

Lily frowned. "So, why are you here doing his dirty work, Black?" she asked. "Shouldn't Potter be apologising himself rather than sending you to do it?"

"Maybe he likes being Potter's lapdog," piped up Severus. "Maybe he finds it gratifying."

Sirius's eyes flashed. "Shut up, Snivellus!"

"Well, at least then you can be with someone who actually likes you," drawled Severus. "Who doesn't think you're a total black sheep, if you'll pardon the pun. It may not be as good as actual family, but I suppose it's better than nothing."

Remus frowned. "That's mean, Severus."

"No, he's right." James had suddenly spoken up. "It is better to have a friend than it is to have a family like his. Then again, I suppose any family at all would be better than yours."

"What's that supposed to mean?" asked Severus dangerously.

"Nothing," said Lily quickly. "Ignore him, he's just trying to stir something he knows nothing about." She gave James a contemptuous look and started to leave.

"Ooooh!" James mocked her. "Someone's a bit high and mighty, aren't they?" With a shrug, he spun round on his heel and disappeared in the other direction.

Sirius smiled sheepishly and then turned to Remus. "Hi. I already know Dean, but who are you?"

"Remus Lupin."

"Sirius Black," said Sirius, shaking the offered hand. "Pleasure to make your acquaintance," he added in such an exaggerated posh voice that Dean burst out laughing. Even Lily, who had paused in her indignant departure (though it was probably to take a swing at James for calling her high and mighty), couldn't quite hold back a small smile, though her eyes were still narrowed in suspicion.

Sirius obviously noticed, because a tense look flickered over his face before he forced a smile at her. "Let's just hope I'm just as much of a black sheep as your...friend," he glanced towards Severus, "seems to think. Because, believe me, I have no intention of trying to get into the snake-house."

"Snake-house?" repeated Dean.

"Slytherin's symbol is a snake," explained Severus. "And I think it sounds brilliant. All the smart people go there. Well, there or Ravenclaw, I suppose, but Slytherin is so much better."

Sirius snorted. "Yeah, if you want to be the next You-Know-Who, sure," he said and stalked off after James before anyone could reply.

"Okay," said Dean, "that's the second time someone's mentioned this You-Know-Who dude. Is anyone actually going to tell me who he is?"

"He's," Severus began, but he was interrupted when a loud voice shouted out for the first years and immediately a crowd of excited children rushed over, some of them giggling while others shouted out in confusion or pain when someone trod on their foot. Even Remus and Lily seemed to be caught up in the moment; Lily was hopping up and down slightly and Remus's eyes had taken on a slightly feverish glow of excitement.

Severus sighed. "Guess we'd better go too," he said, though his frustrated voice couldn't mask his own joy at finally being at the legendary school. Grabbing Dean's hand, he pulled him across the platform towards the mass of children who had suddenly stopped dead. "Woah..." he gasped.

"What?" asked Dean, following the other boy's eyes. "Severus, what're..." but the question died on his lips when he took in the giant of a man in front of him, his face almost totally obscured by a mass of black hair, though his black eyes stood out starkly against what little skin could be seen. Immediately, Dean stepped back slightly, finding himself on guard. "Oh...my God," he whispered, his heart beating violently.

The man let out a laugh that was probably supposed to be gentle, but actually boomed around the station, causing all the first years to fall silent instantly. "Hey, now, no need ter panic there! You ain't gonna come to no harm; I'll get yeh ter Hogwarts safe an' sound, just like I 'ave for years! Now, this way, please, don't be shy! To the boats!"

"Boats?" repeated Dean nervously as he followed the crowd. "What's he talking about? And where are the others all going?" He nodded to the older Hogwarts students who were all vanishing in a different direction towards what looked like several small carriages.

"It's a Hogwarts tradition." James had popped up behind them, Sirius beside him and a small fat boy Dean didn't recognise tagging behind. "First years always reach Hogwarts by crossing the lake."

"What lake?" asked Dean, frowning, but then he actually looked properly and his mouth dropped open slightly when he saw the enormous...well, the enormous lake in front of him, the water rippling slightly in the light of the half moon. "Oh," he said sheepishly. "That lake."

"Yes." Severus's voice was quiet, but there was a hint of what might have been amusement there. "_That _lake."

Dean scowled, feeling his cheeks burn slightly. "Why do first years always go by boat?" he asked.

"Because," interrupted a voice, and Dean turned round to find the enormous man watching him with amusement, "it's a Hogwarts tradition. Now, get movin' you lot, there's four to a boat!"

"Dean! Severus!" Lily was waving at them, Remus sat beside her. "Come on!"

More than slightly embarrassed that he had been stood staring for long enough for the others to have all found a boat, Dean rushed towards the girl who was grinning in excitement. However, when he and Severus sat down, Lily's grin turned into a smirk. "What?" he asked.

Lily giggled. "You might want to look down."

"Why?" Dean frowned slightly, but did as he was told. Only then did he realise that his hand was still clasped in Severus's and their palms were starting to sweat slightly. Severus obviously realised this at the same time, because his face turned a fiery shade of scarlet and pulled his hand away, staring fixedly at the water. Frowning slightly at the loss, Dean also looked down and gasped when something shot into the air and splashed water over their faces. "Ew!" he cried. "Gross!" Scowling, he flipped his hair off his face and glared at Remus, who was snickering at him. "You wouldn't be laughing if you got soaked!"

"Sorry, Dean," chuckled Remus. "But you've just confirmed something I've always wanted to know – that there is a giant squid living in the Hogwarts lake!"

"Oh." Dean frowned. "Er...great?"

"The story of the giant squid that lives in the Hogwarts lake has been kind of a classic urban legend for British wizards for decades," explained Remus. "Sort of like the alligator in the sewers one for Muggles. But my dad was a wizard and he swore that it didn't exist, because no one he knew of had ever seen it."

Severus raised an eyebrow. "If the only proof of something existing was seeing it with the naked eye, then half of what we know about wouldn't exist," he retorted.

"I might have to tell my dad that one," said Dean thoughtfully. "He's got a real thing for urban legends; has done since Sam and I were kids. Practically raised them on us; they made for some very...interesting bedtime stories, I can tell you. But I don't think he's ever heard the squid one."

Remus chuckled. "Well, when you tell him, make sure to let him know that he might be surprised how many of what people call myths might actually turn out to be real."

Dean snorted. "Oh, believe me, he knows that," he muttered to himself. "He knows that only too –"

"Oh!" cried Lily, her eyes suddenly going wide. "Look!"

She was pointing shakily right ahead of them and when Dean looked up, his breath caught in his throat. He was staring at a large ragged cliff on top of which sat a magnificent castle, its high towers and turrets piercing through the starry sky. Lights twinkled at all the windows, making it look like the place was smiling down at them and all of a sudden, Dean was filled with a warmth that he had not really felt since they had suddenly left America. In fact, it was that same feeling that he always found inside him every time they had gone to visit Bobby; a feeling of being safe, like he was finally home.

"Wow," he breathed. Almost without him realising at first, his hand slid across the edge of the boat and found Severus's again. This time, however, the black-haired boy did not pull away, but instead he linked their fingers together and smiled, the lights from the castle playing over his face, lighting up his eyes.

"This is it," he whispered, his voice shaking a little. "A new start."

His voice was quiet, but in the enraptured silence beneath the view of Hogwarts, it carried quite easily over the lake. As he looked around, Dean saw that Sirius was watching from the next boat with a curious look in his eyes directed solely towards Severus. He frowned, remembering the exchange on the platform, and wondered what it was that Sirius was running away from. James had said that the whole Black family subscribed to some idea of pureblood supremacy, or something, but had quickly removed Sirius from that category, and the boy himself had said that he hoped he was a 'black sheep' of the family. What was it about his family that he seemed to be trying so hard to escape?

Suddenly, looking at his two new friends, Dean felt a harsh pang of sympathy for his brother. Even as little children, it had been obvious that Sam hadn't belonged in their father's world; the world of a hunter. When push came to shove he had been there and Dean had never had any cause to doubt that he would have his and John's backs in a fight, he didn't relish it the way that John had. He had hated the continuing fights, the exhausted and blood-filled aftermath and the nightmares that everyone knew came with the job. He had been overjoyed when they had arrived in England, because it finally meant that maybe, just maybe, he could have that chance to be normal that he had always wanted ever since he was old enough to know what it meant. All Sam had wanted was to find somewhere he belonged – somewhere where he wasn't an outsider.

_In two years, he'll be here too, _Dean thought to himself. _He'll know what it feels like to belong somewhere. He can finally get that fresh start he's been trying to find for so long._

Sighing, Dean stared out across the lake, barely managing to duck his head as they passed through a thick ivy curtain into what must be the mouth of the cliff. Sirius was now looking ahead of them, his eyes seeming to take in everything, though occasionally he would glance back towards them, though every time Severus looked in his direction, he would abruptly turn away and talk to James, who was sat beside them, his eyes wide with delight behind his glasses. Dean sighed; it seemed like two of the boys who he would tentatively consider his friends couldn't stand the sight of each other. He wasn't exactly looking forward to refereeing more arguments between people he cared about, and, considering what he knew about magic, he was sure that anything between the two could easily end up turning pretty nasty.

_You don't know that, _a reasonable voice that sounded oddly like Bobby supplied. _They might not have made the best first impression on each other, but things can change. You never know what might happen._

"Dean?" Severus nudged his wrist slightly. "We're here." He reached out with his free hand and caught Dean's chin. "We've been here for a while, actually," he added with a sheepish laugh.

"And you were just going to let me sit here?" spluttered Dean, face bright red as he realised that, yes, everyone else was halfway across a dark passageway, and the glow of Hagrid's lamp was almost faded away. "You were going to let me sit here all night looking like a complete idiot?" He knew he wasn't being entirely fair, but he hated being left behind. Scowling, he tried to pull away, but Severus kept a hold of his hand. "What?" he snapped.

"Nothing," said Severus calmly. "You just seemed deep in thought and I didn't want to interrupt you." Frowning, he tilted his head sideways. "You're like me, aren't you? You're looking for a new start as well."

"So what if I am?" asked Dean irritably, his face heating up even more.

"I'm just saying, it takes one to know one. Dean, I saw you looking between Black and I. I saw him looking at me, too. I don't know what he's trying to escape and, to be honest, I don't particularly care." He tugged Dean out of the boat and up the passageway. "But you're different, Dean. You're more like me. Something happened to you, didn't it? Something you're trying to leave behind."

"I wasn't thinking of myself," muttered Dean, staring at the floor. "I was thinking of my brother. He's –" but he stopped and shook his head. "Look, it doesn't matter. I don't want to talk about it."

But Severus's hand tightened around his. "Your brother isn't the only one who wishes he could move on. You might not have realised it at the time, but now you're here..." he paused. "The life you had before, it wasn't what you wanted. I can see it in your face, Dean."

"Don't," whispered Dean who was desperately trying to turn away.

Severus nodded, but then covered Dean's hands with both of his. "I don't know what's in your past, and to be honest, I'm not sure I want to know. There's something about you that I just don't understand."

"The feeling's mutual," said Dean, smiling sheepishly. "But then again, I don't understand a lot about the wizarding world. But," he took a deep breath, "I don't dislike you, either, and...I thought we could be friends."

"I'd like that," said Severus, smiling shyly. "Just be careful. It's one thing to want a new start, but so many times, that can make you try to outrun your past, and that's something no one can ever truly do."

Dean shivered, but said nothing. He didn't really want to dwell on that particular thought for too long, so he just nodded and made his way through the tunnel until they reached the outside once again where all the rest of the students were still congregated.

Lily instantly spotted them and rushed over. "I thought you'd gotten lost!" she exclaimed. "Where were you?"

"Got a little lost in my own thoughts," said Dean a bit sheepishly. "Sorry."

James elbowed his way over, Sirius beside him. "A _little _lost in your thoughts? You didn't even notice when everyone was throwing pebbles and sand at you, you were so out of it." He patted Dean's hair, sending handfuls of wet sand falling around their feet as several of the other first years chuckled. "See? You've ended up with half the lake bed on you!"

"I've had far worse on me, believe me," retorted Dean, calmly brushing the sand away, making sure that most of it landed on James, at which point he spluttered in shock. "Hey, you shouldn't dish it out if you can't take it. Rule number one of being a kid."

Sirius laughed. "He's got you there, James, you have to admit."

"All right, all right, enough already!" Hagrid's booming voice echoed down towards them. "Everyone all here now? Good, now, let's get yeh inside; don't want ter be late fer yer Sortin'!"

He gave the crowd of first-years – all of whom, even James, looked very nervous – a broad smile and led them up the stairs, all the while whistling under his breath. Slowly, Dean followed, expecting to feel overwhelmingly nervous as well, but the warmth and calmness that he felt practically falling off the walls of Hogwarts merely soothed and relaxed him, despite the pounding of his heart at the thought of his imminent Sorting – however that was going to happen – and with a deep breath, he followed Severus and Lily up the flight of stone steps and into the castle.

* * *

><p><em>Thanks for reading and, as always, reviews are love! :) <em>

_Ash xxx_


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Hagrid stepped up to the doorway and cleared his throat. "Firs' years are here, Professor McGonagall. Sorry we're a bit late, but there was a slight delay at the landing stage. A couple of our party got a little...delayed."

"No matter, Hagrid," replied an authoritative female voice. "I'll take them from here."

Sirius looked up towards the direction of the voice and his eyes fell upon a tall and stern-looking witch with iron grey hair and sharp looking dark eyes that seemed to take in each and every one of them. She stood erect and strong dressed in flowing robes and a long deep blue cloak. Despite knowing at first sight that she was not a woman you wanted to get on the wrong side of, Sirius didn't feel afraid at all. Instead, he felt a strange thrill of excitement course through him. He was an intelligent boy, everyone said so, but he also knew that he was certainly no angel; he had a mischievous streak about him that was excellent for pranks. Already, he found himself mentally running through various ways he could cause maximum mayhem and mischief around the school while taking care to avoid her hawk-like eyes, though he was careful to keep an expression of polite interest on his face, though when he glanced towards James, he thought that the messy-haired boy was having similar ideas of his own, which was only confirmed when he saw the slightly frolicsome glint in his hazel eyes and the twitch of his mouth into a small grin.

On his other side, however, Dean looked nervous as the tall witch led them inside and then into a small room away from the cathedral-like hallway. His large green eyes darted across the walls, as though he was assessing the place and looking for any possible sign of an exit, apart from the door they had just come through. Sirius watched, frowning slightly, as the Snape kid, his greasy black hair falling over his face, looked at him curiously and gave him what could probably have passed for a reassuring smile.

The woman cleared her throat imperiously. "Welcome to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," she said. "I am Professor Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress. The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, however, firstly, you must be Sorted into your houses before you can take your seats in the Great Hall. The Sorting is a very important ceremony for you, because, while you are here, your house will be like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory and spend your free time in your house common room."

She paused briefly and looked around at them. "The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards."

"Which house were you in?" Dean suddenly piped up, his voice echoing, even in the small room. Everyone turned to stare at him. "What? I only asked!"

"I bet she was a Ravenclaw," said someone else.

Professor McGonagall blinked in surprise before recovering herself. "As a matter of fact, I was a Gryffindor," she said. "However, do not take that to mean that I will favour students from my own house. All students are treated with fairness and equality and any rule-breaking is dealt with accordingly, regardless of their Sorting." She cleared her throat. "House points are earned for triumphs and are lost when rules are broken. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the House Cup, which is a great honour. I sincerely hope that each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours. Now, the Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few moments, in front of the entire school, but first, please, take some time to smarten yourselves up first." Her eyes flickered towards James, who blushed and tried to smooth down his untidy hair, and then on to Dean who still had sand on his cloak. "I shall return for you when we are ready," she finally added before leaving the room.

"How do they Sort us?" asked Lily. "It all sounds very important."

"Dunno," said James, shrugging. "That's one thing my parents never told me."

Sirius nodded. "They said it was some sort of test, but they wouldn't tell me what it was."

"I think it's something you're supposed to find out for yourself," said Severus. "You know, like your initiation into Hogwarts. No one wants to spoil that for you. My mum didn't tell me anything about it either."

"I don't think anyone's families tell them about the Sorting," said James. "Everyone in my family said that they didn't know what went on when they first came to Hogwarts, and they all refused to tell me anything."

"Well, whatever it is, it's got to be better than getting your head flushed down the toilet," said Dean.

"What?" exclaimed Sirius, staring at the blonde boy. "How does that even work?"

"Simple," said Dean. "You lure someone into the bathrooms and then shove their head down the toilet and flush it. Means they come up with really wet hair. Even worse if you _go _beforehand."

Lily looked sick. "You've _done _that to people?"

Dean shook his head, blushing a little. "Had it done to me. Several times." He shivered. "We changed schools way too many times back home."

"You and your brother caused too much trouble for the teachers?" asked James, chuckling.

"No!" said Dean, bristling indignantly. "We just moved around a lot!"

Sirius frowned slightly, somehow thinking that the boy's reaction was more to do with the slight on his brother than it was to do with any assumption about him. "Did anyone ever do that to Sam?" he asked in a would-be casual voice.

"Oh, they tried once," said Dean with a rather cold smile. "But I dealt with them."

"Oh," said Sirius, nodding. He made a mental note to never consider messing with Dean's little brother; that smile had scared him almost as much as one of his mother's bad moods. Suddenly, he jumped out of his skin as something cold flew right through him. A moment later, he heard a loud scream of shock and he looked around to see Dean, eyes wide, staring at the pearly white figure of a tall woman who was watching them all with interest. He seemed to be torn between fear and trying to find something, though what it was Sirius didn't know.

"Is she...?" whispered Lily.

"A ghost." Dean's voice was quiet as he gently ushered her behind him, his gaze suddenly sharp and focused. "Everyone get behind me and stay there for now."

The woman looked down almost sadly. "Do not fear," she said. "I mean you no harm. None of the Hogwarts ghosts mean you any harm." She stretched out a hand towards Dean, who stepped back a little, though he did not drop his gaze. "Each house here has a resident ghost, a messenger or a representative, if you like."

Remus tilted his head. "You're the Grey Lady," he said. "The ghost of Ravenclaw Tower. My dad told me about you."

"That is correct," she said and then smiled softly as many of the first years looked frightened and Dean still seemed to hold a fighting stance. "Do not fear, young ones. We at Hogwarts are not like the violent beings you may have known from your fairytales. Rather we offer aid to students in their hour of need. It comforts us to know that we can be of use after our death."

Dean frowned. "But don't you want to...move on?"

The woman stared right at him. "Some do choose to...go on, as you put it, but others...stay, as I have chosen to do." She bowed her head. "Please, I beg of you, do not ask me why. The subject is too painful to be spoken of." Her voice was racked with guilt and everyone shifted uncomfortably. " With what could only have been a ghostly sigh, she closed her eyes and once again addressed the room. "I wish you luck with your Sorting," she whispered and slowly drifted through one of the walls, leaving everyone staring after her.

James whistled. "Bit miserable, isn't she? Think she's hiding a secret?"

"Probably," said Sirius. "Something really cool and really dangerous probably!" He could almost feel his eyes starting to glitter in excitement. "Hey, James if we found out –"

But he was interrupted when someone cleared their throat and everyone turned around to see Professor McGonagall behind them, a parchment scroll in her hand.

"We're ready for you now," she said briskly, though Sirius thought he caught a thin sliver of anticipation and excitement in her voice. "Follow me."

She led then out of the chamber and towards a pair of large double doors on the opposite side of the entrance hall. Sirius wasn't sure, but as they started to open, he thought he could see a tiny smile forming on the stern witch's face. A minute later, as they filed into the Great Hall, he realised why. Even after living in the magical world all of his life, nothing could have prepared him for the sight of the thousands of candles floating over the four long tables, or the starry night sky above his head. He knew, obviously, that it wasn't real, that it was only bewitched, but he didn't care. It all just seemed so...magical.

He almost laughed at the thought; he lived in the wizarding world. He was at a school for witchcraft and wizardry. What on earth had he expected?

_Not this, _a quiet voice in his head supplied. _Definitely not something so...welcoming. _

A soft 'thud' in front of him made him snap out of his thoughts and he blinked in confusion as Professor McGonagall placed a stool in front of them with a ragged old witch's hat placed almost reverently on top of it. Sirius was sure his facial expression mirrored the confusion he could see in the others and he wondered what on earth was so important about the patched up old thing that it seemed to be treated with such respect. But before he could dwell on that any more, a large rip near the brim of the hat opened wide and then, accompanied by gasps of shock, it began to sing.

_"Oh, you may just think I'm ragged,_

_A thing not fit for wearing._

_But though my edges may be jagged,_

_Believe me, I'm past caring. _

_But there's a story I can tell_

_Not of battles, nor of gold._

_Of a friendship that to darkness fell,_

_Before I became so old._

_Great Gryffindor, with boldness bright,_

_Did come from a land of war._

_And he praised those people who would fight,_

_And help uphold the law. _

_Wise Ravenclaw, her mind so sharp,_

_Found her calling in her books._

_She prized knowledgelike a bard his harp,_

_And a chessman his rook. _

_Then there came gentle Hufflepuff,_

_With her face so sweet and kind._

_She knew a young wizard's life was tough,_

_And helped to ease a mind. _

_Finally, there was Slytherin,_

_With his mind so shrewd and cold._

_He valued those with the will to win,_

_And those from bloodlines old. _

_And these four friends, all so different,_

_Worked to found this noble place._

_To teach our children what magic meant,_

_And help them find their base._

_Peace was upheld for many years,_

_And the friendship remained strong._

_But then, like all our worst fears,_

_Things began to go wrong._

_The thoughts of Slytherin turned dark,_

_Prejudice entered his heart._

_He bore a wish to make his mark,_

_And from his friends he drifted apart._

_The rift at first was slow, so slow,_

_But Gryffindor suspected,_

_That his friend did dark subjects know,_

_And quickly, he reacted._

_Once the news had been brought to light,_

_So bitter a sight you could see._

_Slytherin was beaten in his fight,_

_And the four became three. _

_The betrayal shocked the founders deep,_

_But a vow they all would take._

_Though the path to unity is steep,_

_All effort they would make. _

_And thus Hogwarts stands proud today,_

_Steeped in so much history._

_But even now, I guess the founders pray,_

_That there will be glory._

_So now, young friends, your time is here,_

_To see where it is you fit._

_Wear me and show me hope and fear,_

_When on my stool you sit. _

_And I will search your thoughts and mind,_

_As far as I am able._

_Then you will know who are your kind,_

_And join them at their table!" _

When the hat's 'mouth' finally closed, everyone turned and stared at each other while the rest of the school applauded enthusiastically. Dean, Lily and a few other new students Sirius felt sure were Muggleborn, looked a little confused, as if they were wondering how a ragged witch's hat could determine your house.

Professor McGonagall looked at them all. "When I call your name," she said, "you will come forth and –"

"We've got to try the Hat on!" The exclamation came from James whose eyes were suddenly bright with excitement, even though everyone else was staring at him. "Yeah! We try it on and...and then it looks into your mind and decides where it's going to put you! It must be that!"

"Yes, thank you," said Professor McGonagall, her mouth going so thin at the interruption that several of the first years – not including Sirius – backed away and James audibly gulped. "I shall place the Hat on your head and you will be Sorted into your Houses."

She unrolled the parchment and consulted it briefly. "Appleton, Harriet!"

A blonde girl with dark brown intelligent eyes stepped forwards, looking nervous but excited, and allowed the hat to be placed on her head as she sat down. A brief pause followed and then the 'mouth' opened and the hat shouted "RAVENCLAW!"

The second table from the left exploded into cheers as Harriet, pink-faced but clearly pleased, stepped off the stool and went to her seat, several people shaking her hand as she did so.

"It looks into your head when you put it on?" Sirius heard Dean whispering and he sounded frightened, almost as frightened as when the Grey Lady had appeared before them earlier. "That sounds...bad."

Sirius's heart clenched a bit at the vulnerability in his voice, but before he could turn around and say anything, he heard Severus Snape say "It can't hurt you. They wouldn't use it if it could."

"Yeah, but –"

"Black, Sirius!"

Immediately, the Great Hall erupted into whispers and Sirius, deeply unsettled but trying not to show it, slowly made his way to the front. Briefly, he wondered if there was much point in him being formally Sorted, since everyone in the entire school already seemed to have decided that, like his family before him, he was destined to be a Slytherin.

"_Ah," _a voice whispered in his ear, making him jump until he realised that it was the hat itself talking to him. _"A Black, I see. Well, you must know what I did with the rest of your family...but maybe not you."_

Sirius blinked in astonishment. _What?_

"_Yes." _The hat sounded almost amused. _"I don't think you fit with the rest of them. There's a...loyalty in you that I saw in very few of your family. And talent, intelligence, no doubt...but your courage...yes, oh, yes...your bravery makes me say..._GRYFFINDOR!"

Sirius's mouth flew open as the hat was lifted off his head. The entire Hall had gone silent, staring at him. "Did...did I just..." he stammered, looking up at Professor McGonagall who offered him a nod and a rare smile. At once, he knew that he had heard the hat right and he leapt up and cheered.

"I'm a Gryffindor!" he cried, rushing to one of the seats. "I'm a Gryffindor!"

"Indeed you are," said a red-haired boy, probably a third year, with an amused smile. "I'm Fabian Prewett. This," he indicated another, identical, boy beside him, "is my brother Gideon."

"Hi," said Sirius, nodding. "I can't quite...I mean...wow."

"We know," the brothers said in unison. "I think everyone's in shock."

Sirius looked around. The Sorting was continuing, but all the students seemed a little absent-minded in their clapping and a lot of them kept on glancing at the Gryffindor table in astonishment, as if they weren't expecting to see him sat right there. He offered them all a broad smile and sat back, applauding as Alice Colton, a dimpled and dark-haired girl joined their table and sat beside him, joined a few minutes later by Lily Evans, the red-haired girl from the train. Feeling a little guilty about his and James's behaviour earlier, he smiled at her and offered her a seat beside him, but she merely scowled and sat down on Alice's other side.

Gideon Prewett winced. "Word to the wise, mate," he said quietly. "Never make a redhead mad."

Sirius chuckled. "I'll remember that." He sat back and watched dreamily, though they went a long time without any new Gryffindors joining them until Niamh Kennedy, a sandy-haired Irish girl, came over and sat down too, blushing as she'd tripped over a crack in the floor on her way. A minute later, she was joined by Remus Lupin who seemed pleased, but a little shellshocked by the whole thing.

"Hey." Alice shuffled over to make some space between her and Sirius. "Sit here."

"Thanks," said Remus shyly, turning to Sirius. "D'you mind?"

"Not at all," said Sirius, suddenly equally shy. "Look, I don't know what you've heard about my family, but...I'm not like the rest of them."

"I know," said Remus. "And I want you to know...I would never judge you on your family. You didn't choose them, Sirius." He smiled nervously. "You can't control who they are. All you can control is who you are and what you choose to do with it."

"He's right," piped up Alice. "You shouldn't be judged on your family's history."

Sirius let out a slightly bitter snort. "Well, you know what they say, sins of the father and all that," he muttered, though he knew couldn't quite hide the warm glow their words gave him inside.

When Peter Pettigrew, the small chubby boy who James had bumped into on the train, went up to be Sorted, he seemed to sit there for hours on end, his feet twitching nervously. Everyone was looking at each other, seemingly wondering if a mistake had been made; clearly, a Sorting didn't usually last this long. When the hat did finally name him a Gryffindor, it was with an unusual air of slight confusion, as if it itself wasn't quite sure where the boy belonged. Even Peter looked a little confused as he joined them.

"Potter, James!"

To Sirius's absolute lack of surprise, this barely took a moment, the hat shouting "GRYFFINDOR!" almost the minute it touched James's head. The black-haired boy, looked thrilled, but there was a certain sense of relief about him as he came over and, without hesitation, dropped into the seat beside Sirius that Lily had earlier refused.

"Nice one, mate!" he said, patting him on the back.

"Thanks!" grinned James.

It was with a similar lack of shock that when Severus Snape was called, he sat down and barely had to wait a minute before the hat declared him a Slytherin. What was surprising, however, was the tiny flicker of what looked like disappointment in the boy's eyes behind his smile as he sat down. It quickly vanished, however, when Lucius Malfoy came over and, with a broad grin, patted him on the back, his silver Prefect badge and his long blonde hair glimmering in the candlelight.

James grimaced. "It makes you sick, doesn't it?"

"You could say that," muttered Sirius, watching as the Hufflepuff table burst into cheers as Brianna Templeton was sorted there. "Git."

He wasn't quite sure if he was talking about Snape or Malfoy or both of them. Sighing, he rested his fingers on the table forcing himself to try to pay attention to the Sorting, though his stomach was growling loudly and his feet were starting to go to sleep; the ceremony seemed to go on for ages...

"Winchester, Dean!"

That name suddenly jolted him out of his stupor and he watched avidly as Dean, who was now almost pale green, walked up on shaking legs. He frowned; while most of the new students could easily be considered 'unknown quantities', as his father had put it, there was something strange about Dean, something he couldn't quite place. He seemed oddly on edge, even when he had been laughing at James's wand comments on the train, and that moment when the picture of his mother had fallen out of his jacket had left Sirius wondering just what exactly had happened in the past. The scene with the Grey Lady, too, had left him even more bemused; Dean had seemed frightened, threatened even, by her presence and seemed to instantly take it upon himself to try to protect the rest of them.

He couldn't see Dean's face under the brim of the huge hat, but he could see the tension in his hands as he tapped his fingers against his lap, and then nearly jumped out of his skin when, seemingly far louder than before, the hat screamed out "GRYFFINDOR!"

Automatically, Sirius applauded with the rest, barely resisting the urge to get up and wrap his arms around Dean, who looked so frightened he almost seemed to be shrinking in his robes. However, as he got closer to the table, he took a deep breath, flipped his blonde hair off his face and set his face into a smile.

"So, I guess I'm joining you guys then," he said. "Cool, great."

Sirius snorted. "Get here, you idiot," he said and pulled Dean down next to him and patted him on the back. James huffed a little, but Sirius knew he'd done the right thing when Dean's smile relaxed into a more genuine one, though his eyes still looked a little guarded.

Remus chuckled. "Seriously, Dean, we don't bite," he said and then blushed and quickly looked away.

"Sorry," said Dean, also blushing. "I'm just nervous."

"Totally natural," said Lily, sympathetically. "This is a big thing, Dean. It's going to change your whole life."

"Wouldn't be the first time something has," muttered Dean and Sirius somehow knew that he was thinking of his mother. "Still, I guess this is going to be a good change, right?"

"I hope so," said Sirius quietly. "But, Dean, there are things you should know about our world. Like –" but then the Great Hall fell silent as one of the teachers stood up. Immediately, Sirius changed his sentence. "Like how that's Albus Dumbledore," he whispered to Dean. "Headmaster of Hogwarts and the greatest wizard of our time."

Dean chuckled. "Yeah, I've heard of him. Uncle Bobby said he's awesome."

Professor Dumbledore smiled broadly down at the students. "To our new legs, welcome all!" he said. "To our old hands, welcome back!" He looked around at the rest of the teachers, apparently unfazed by some of them rolling his eyes at the joke. "As I always say, there is a time for speech-making, but this is not it. However, I have a few words for you! Tuck in."

"This is gonna be good," whispered one of the Prewett twins.

"What?" asked Sirius, but his question was answered as instantly, the previously empty dishes on the tables were now piled with different kinds of delicious food. He heard Dean and Lily gasp in shock and delight beside him and turned, open-mouthed to the twins. "Wow..."

"I know," said one of them, his mouth full of steak. "We're purebloods – but then you probably know that – but I still can't get used to this."

"For heaven's sake, Gid, swallow!"

"Sorry."

"Woah..." Dean had helped himself to some food, but he still looked shocked. "It's like...like magic."

Lily chuckled. Sirius groaned. "You went there?"

"Well, it is!" protested Dean.

"You know, there's a reason for that," said a voice and everyone turned round to see another ghost, this one a man wearing tights and a ruff, watching them with a mixture of amusement and sorrow. "It _is _magic." Shaking his head, he wedged himself in between Dean and Sirius and sighed. "That looks delicious. I mean, I don't need to eat since I...well, since I..."

"Since you died?" asked James.

"Yes, since I died," said the ghost, rolling his eyes into the back of his head a little. Suddenly, he caught sight of the twins and his grin broadened. "Ah, Gideon and Fabian Prewett! Good summer?"

"Yes, Nick," said Fabian, grinning. "You?"

"Dismal," the ghost, Nick, sighed. "As usual for me now, I suppose. But come, now is not the moment for misery! I am Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington, resident ghost of Gryffindor Tower!"

"Also known as Nearly Headless Nick," piped up Sirius.

"Oh, that cursed nickname!" groaned the ghost. "I really wish Peeves hadn't come up with it, but then again it is his job to cause trouble, isn't it? One of these days, he really is going to land us all in a terrible mess and then maybe he'll be banished from the school!"

"Nearly Headless?" spluttered Peter, speaking for the first time. "How can you be _nearly _headless?"

"Quite easily, actually," answered Dean, swallowing a mouthful of pie. "If, you know, the axe was blunt." He frowned when he saw everyone staring at him. "What? That's obviously what happened; someone tried to behead him, but it went wrong because the axe was blunt."

Nick's translucent eyes widened. "Oho!" he exclaimed, patting Dean on the shoulder. "You're our American friend, aren't you?"

"No, I'm actually French, I just like talking like this," said Dean sarcastically. Sirius laughed at that, but Nick tilted his head and suddenly his face lit up – as much as a ghost's face could, anyway.

"Well!" he cried. "I never would've thought it; Dean Winchester at Hogwarts! I know of you, of course, and your family...so sad, what happened." He smiled softly, with a healthy side dose of respect. "You'll be a credit to Gryffindor, that much I know. So brave...just like your parents."

Dean nearly choked on his food. "You knew my parents?"

"Indeed I did," said Nick, smiling. "There's not a ghost in the world who hasn't heard of John or Mary Winchester. Wonderful people you know, wonderful."

"How could you know them?" asked James, frowning. "You've been dead since before Dean was even born – before _my _parents were born! There's no way you could have known them!"

Nick's smile faded. "And there you show all the sensitivity of a blunt axe, Mr. Potter," he said in a slightly brittle tone. "And believe me, I know how that feels." With a scowl, he seized his left ear and pulled hard, sending his head swinging right away from his neck and dropping onto his shoulder, though it still hung on by what must have been a bit of sinew or muscle. "And that is how I can be nearly headless," he said with a brittle laugh and then swept off to another part of the table.

Lily leaned over and smacked James on the arm. "You are so tactless!" she hissed.

"What?" asked James. "How could he have known them? Dean's Muggleborn and American and Nick's been dead for centuries before his mother died! There's no way it's possible!"

"Still, you can't go saying things like that!" spat Lily. "It's cruel!"

"No, it was cruel for that ghost to say that," retorted Sirius. "James is –"

"I'm sat right here, you know," interrupted Dean in a tired voice. "And I really don't want to hear my friends arguing over my family. My mother died years ago, my dad, my brother and I survived, end of story." He glared at Lily and Sirius. "And I really do not want to talk about it," he insisted, though his voice cracked a little on the words.

Sirius nodded and went back to his food, noticing Lily do the same a few minutes later, after she'd muttered something – possibly an apology – to Dean. Remus and James watched curiously, but Peter continued to stuff his face with what Sirius eventually realised was very melted ice cream, and hadn't paid any attention.

When the feast was over, Professor Dumbledore rose from his seat once again and cleared his throat. "And now that we are all fed and watered, I have a few start-of-term notices to announce. Firstly, first-years please note that the dark forest in the grounds is strictly forbidden – and some of our older students should do well to remember that as well."

One of the Prewetts chuckled. "Well, if they're going to call it the Forbidden Forest, do they really think we're not going to get curious about why it's forbidden?"

Sirius stifled a snort; he couldn't agree more.

Dumbledore continued. "Secondly, our caretaker, Mr. Filch has once again asked that I remind you that magic should not be used in the corridors or between classes, unless you have a sincere wish to get on the wrong side of him."

He paused to allow that to sink in and then, in a lighter tone, he added, "And finally, Quidditch trials will take place in the second week of term. Anyone who is interested in playing for their House teams should contact Madam Hooch. And now, off to bed! Night night!"

Feeling slightly wrong-footed at the abrupt end to the feast, Sirius pulled himself out of his chair and followed the crowd of Gryffindors out of the Hall, keeping his eyes on the black-haired older female Prefect who was guiding them to the dormitories and providing a running commentary about the castle as he did so. It was interesting, and he appreciated how new and different this was for several of the students, but he couldn't help but find the awed gasps and whispers around him rather distracting.

Eventually, they came to another portrait, this one of a very busty woman wearing an elaborate pink silk dress dripping with pearls. She looked at them impassively and spoke in a rich and clear voice. "Password?"

"_Coeur de Lion_," said the girl.

The woman raised an eyebrow at her and then the portrait slowly swung back to admit them. By now, Sirius was trying to resist the urge to rush straight in ahead of them; he was so excited he could barely think straight. All this time, he'd heard stories about the Slytherin common room and how beautiful and regal it was, and how surely no other place in the castle could compare.

Clearly, they had never been in this place. Admittedly, the Gryffindor common room wasn't exactly imposing, but Sirius would willingly take the comfortably stuffed armchairs and roaring fire in the enormous grate over what sounded like the stately coldness of his family's house room. The dormitory, too, despite the enormous four poster beds still managed to look homely and welcoming with the warm red and gold blankets and soft mattresses.

James flopped on his bed with a groan of sheer pleasure. "Oh, man, this is amazing," he moaned, eyes half-closed.

Sirius raised an eyebrow. "Do I need to leave you alone?" he joked.

"Shut up," retorted James. "It's better than I thought it would be..."

"Yeah, you're right there," admitted Sirius, curling up on the bed and sitting on his ankles. He glanced around at James who was now playing with a model flying broomstick and then at Remus who had just unpacked what looked like half a chocolate shop onto his table. "Bloody hell..." he breathed.

Remus looked up. "What?" he asked. "I like chocolate. A lot."

"Never would have guessed," muttered James, but with an affectionate look in his eyes. "So, going to share?"

"In your dreams, James," chuckled Remus and he performed a little spell over his table with a grin. "In your very sweet dreams."

On Sirius's other side, Dean chuckled and pulled something out of his trunk with a grin. It looked oddly squashed and shapeless and Sirius frowned. "What's that?"

"It's my car," said Dean simply. "Look, it's even got wheels."

"Very...very nice," said Sirius, frowning a little, even though he thought it was the strangest looking car he'd ever seen in his life.

James snorted. "How old are you, five?"

"Nope, but my brother was when he made it," said Dean. "Well, nearly six, but the point stands. He gave it to me for my eighth birthday." He nodded as though that explained everything.

And, the funny thing was that, for Sirius, it did explain everything. He watched James roll his eyes and flop back on his bed, barely pausing for an instant to close his curtains, and then reached into his own trunk and pulled out the small box he'd hidden underneath his piles of robes. He turned around to check no one was watching – they weren't; Remus had his nose in a book he'd pulled from somewhere and Peter was halfway underneath his bed looking for something he'd lost – and turned back towards Dean who was watching him curiously.

"When my brother was four, he gave me this," he said quietly, opening the box and pulling out the ragged little wooden star shape inside. "I don't even know where he got it, but he just pressed it into my hand on Christmas night and smiled at me." He sighed. "Five years later and everything's completely changed, but I still keep this thing."

"You're not close?" asked Dean.

"Nope." Sirius shook his head. "Regulus is just turning into a smaller version of my parents; he's becoming everything I swore I would never be – stuck-up, bigoted and just..." he gestured helplessly, "just a git."

"But you still care about him."

It wasn't a question and Sirius knew it. "Yes. Merlin help me, but yes."

Dean shrugged. "Maybe he'll grow out of it. I mean, he's...nine now?" He smiled when Sirius nodded. "There's still time. You never know what might happen."

Sirius squirmed a little and quickly changed the subject. "What about your brother?"

Dean chuckled. "Sammy's cool. I mean, yeah, he gets moody and bitchy sometimes, but..." he shook his head, "but he's my brother, you know?"

"Yeah." Sirius nodded. "How old is he?"

"Nine. Same age as your brother. But sometimes, he just seems so much younger, or..." Dean's voice quietened, "or I just seem so much older. It's weird."

"Why?" asked Sirius.

"Well, it's like, after Mom..." but immediately, Dean stopped talking and his face instantly took on a shuttered look. "Doesn't matter. It's a long story and I'm tired." Without waiting for a reply, he crawled between his sheets and took out his wand.

Sirius was slightly blindsided by the rather abrupt brush-off, but he was more distracted by the Silencing charms Dean was casting. "You know those charms? Aren't they, like, fifth year?"

"Trust me, you'll thank me for them," was the only reply he got before Dean closed his curtains. "Goodnight."

"Night," whispered Sirius, staring at the embroidered fabric before he too dropped into his own bed.

* * *

><p><em>hanks for reading and please review! :) Ash xxx<em>


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

It had been three days since the Sorting and it seemed like several members of Gryffindor house were still somewhat unsettled by the thought of having a Black in their midst. Every time Sirius walked into the common room, he could feel the silence suddenly descend on the room as everyone abruptly stopped talking and looked away from him. Admittedly, the first-year boys didn't seem to mind, which Sirius appreciated, but then again James would probably have accepted a Hippogriff in their room, Dean was Muggleborn and didn't know much about wizarding prejudice, Remus was one of those people who was nice to pretty much everyone and Peter didn't seem to have enough brains to notice anything amiss in the first place. So, really, his new friends were probably not the best judges of character. Still, it was nice to know some people who genuinely wanted to talk to him and didn't stare at him like he was a hungry vampire or something like that. The first-year girls – Lily, Alice, Niamh and two others whose names he couldn't remember – didn't exactly treat him like that, but at the same time, they weren't all that eager to talk to him, especially Lily, who still seemed annoyed at his behaviour the first time they had met on the Hogwarts Express.

Nevertheless, he was extremely glad for his friends, especially when he heard an all too familiar screech at breakfast and looked up to see his mother's owl swooping down on him with a bright red envelope in its beak. It dropped the envelope in front of Sirius and then took off again with a baleful glare, pausing only to scratch its talons sharply across the side of Dean's neck and cuff James's head with the sharp edge of its wing before it set off again.

Peter blinked at him. "That's a Howler," he said rather unnecessarily.

"A what?" asked Dean, wincing as he clapped his hand over the scratches on his neck. "Damn, that bird has sharp claws!"

"You'll see," said Sirius wearily. "Just...stick your fingers in your ears." Taking a sharp breath, he opened the envelope very slowly, his fingers trembling. He wanted to close his eyes, but he didn't think he could let anyone around know how badly this was getting to him. Instead, he just forced himself to properly open the thing and then dropped it on the table, just as his mother's all too familiar screech exploded through the Hall.

"_SIRIUS ORION BLACK!" _shrieked the Howler, causing Dean to drop his spoon in his cereal bowl, sending milk everywhere, his eyes wide with shock. "_HOW DARE YOU BRING THIS SHAME ON OUR FAMILY! GRYFFINDOR! __**GRYFFINDOR! **__CONSORTING WITH MUDBLOODS AND HALF-BLOODS! BESMIRCHING THE NOBLE HOUSE OF BLACK! HOW COULD YOU? ALL WE HAVE WORKED FOR TO KEEP OUR NAME PURE AND YOU THROW IT AWAY LIKE IT MEANS NOTHING! OUR REPUTATION IN TATTERS, OUR NAME IN THE MUD AND IT'S __**ENTIRELY YOUR FAULT!**__"_

There was a brief silence and Sirius thought it was over, but before he could stand up, another voice echoed through the Hall; one that made his insides clench nauseatingly.

"_Master has upset poor Mistress...oh, my poor Mistress, she wept and she wailed, but Master does not care...no, Master is an ungrateful little wretch who has no thought for his poor mother's delicate heart...her ragged nerves...oh,my poor Mistress...Kreacher's heart weeps for her...what she must think...how can young Master do this...a Black in the house of Mudbloods and blood-traitors...how can he do this..."_

The words faded across the Hall and the envelope lingered for a split second and then burst into flames, burning until all that was left was a pile of ash. Out of the corner of his eye, Sirius saw Dean flinch a little beside him, but he ignored it in favour of returning nonchalantly to his breakfast, refusing to catch the eye of anyone staring at him and trying not to listen to the whispers and quiet laughs, most of which he knew were coming from the Slytherin table, breaking out in the room.

A movement on his right made him look up, just in time to see James get to his feet and stand on the bench, the extra height somehow making him look almost imposing. He cleared his throat loudly and everyone looked up.

"Hey!" he shouted, probably unnecessarily because everyone was staring at him any way. "Stop it, everyone! Just because he's from a family full of bigoted pureblood gits, that doesn't mean he is one! He's my friend! So, you can all stop whispering and glaring at him like he doesn't belong, because he does belong! So there!" He glared rather impressively around the Hall, specifically at certain groups at the Gryffindor table, and then sat down giving Sirius a slightly sheepish look as he did so.

"Sorry," he muttered, "if I embarrassed you or something."

"No!" protested Sirius, though he was sure his face, which he had managed to keep impassive when the Howler was broadcasting itself everywhere, was now bright red. "I just can't remember the last time anyone ever did that for me," he whispered. "Like I had friends."

"Well, you have now," said James firmly, but this time his wasn't the only voice that had spoken. Dean and Remus had piped up and both were now smiling shyly at him.

James's jaw twitched a little, but he nodded. "See? We're all your friends. Me, Remus, Dean and Peter, too, right?"

Peter had been staring at the ashes of the Howler until now, but he suddenly jerked his head up as if someone had just kicked his ankle. "Sorry, what?" he asked in a squeaky voice.

"Just saying that we're all Sirius's friends now," said Dean, raising an eyebrow. "That means you as well, right?"

"Oh! Yes!" said Peter, his voice squeaking even more. "Yes, we're all friends here, Sirius, and that means me too." He gave Sirius a quick nervous smile and hastily returned to his plate of food.

Despite Peter's lukewarm reaction, Sirius couldn't stop grinning. He actually had real friends, instead of those annoying society brats his parents had tried to introduce him when they dragged him to important functions. "Thanks," he muttered. "I don't...you don't know what this means."

"Woah, please," said Dean, holding up one hand. "Let's not turn this into a chick-flick moment, because that's just awkward."

"What's a chick-flick moment?" asked James, frowning.

"Extremely uncomfortable," said Dean, gesturing for emphasis and accidentally splashing Remus with milk. "Oops, sorry."

Sirius laughed. "Message received and understood," he said. "Well, I guess one thing I should do now I've got friends is introduce my family, but you've all heard my mother's dulcet tones already."

"That was your mother?" asked Dean, grimacing. "No offense, but she sounds like what my dad would call an evil bitch."

"Yep, she is," said Sirius, polishing off his sausages. "And a fanatical pureblood as well." Seeing Dean's confused look, he elaborated. "It means that we've supposedly not got any Muggle blood in our family, but I wouldn't believe that, we'd have died out long before if it was true. But I think that all the inbreeding is far worse than having a bit of Muggle heritage in our bloodline. Sadly, most of my family disagree."

"Nice," said Dean, wrinkling his nose. "So, are all pureblood families as...crazy as yours?"

"No!" laughed Sirius. "There are some decent ones around. His, for instance." He jerked his thumb towards James. "No problems with Muggles whatsoever."

"You might call us blood-traitors," said James wryly.

"Huh," said Dean, nodding, though he still looked a little confused. "That's...I don't quite know where to start."

Sirius chuckled, but his next words were quiet. "If I told you that I kind of envied you, what would you say?"

"That's stupid," said Dean bluntly. "Why the hell would you envy me? I have no idea what I'm doing most of the time. You know so much that I don't and," he bit his lip, "I don't want to screw this up."

Sirius sighed; already, he hated seeing Dean upset. "You won't," he assured him. "Just give it time. Just because I'm from a wizarding family, it doesn't give me much of a head start."

"Yeah, but –"

"And you want to know why I envy you?" Sirius got up. "Because of what you said the first night we were here. About your brother." He forced a brittle smile to his face. "Come on, we've got Potions now."

He was barely halfway down the corridor when he realised Dean wasn't beside him. Frowning, he turned around and saw the blonde boy several paces behind him, looking apprehensive. "Hey," he said, quickly doubling back, "don't worry, Potions isn't that scary."

"I'm sorry," muttered Dean. "I didn't mean to upset you. I just...I don't quite get why you'd want to change places with me."

"Because you've got a family who you love and who loves you back," said Sirius. "Just the way you talked about Sam, like you were his world and he was yours. I'd give anything for that. I mean, sure, some of my relatives are decent, but most of them aren't."

"Oh," said Dean quietly. "I guess I understand that. It sucks when the people closest to you don't get you."

Sirius started to feel a little uncomfortable and quickly changed the subject. "Well, there's that and the fact that your dad doesn't know about those awful Howlers so he can't send you one when you piss him off."

"Doesn't know yet, but knowing Dad, he'd find a way," said Dean, happily seizing on the new topic. "So, basically, Howlers are what? Something wizards use when they're really pissed off and want everyone to know about it?"

"Pissed or ashamed, yeah," said Sirius nodding. "Or trying to guilt trip you like crazy like Kreacher did. My mother's house-elf," he clarified for Dean, who was looking blank.

"That doesn't help much, because I don't even know what a house-elf is," retorted Dean with a small laugh.

"Well, clearly you wouldn't, with your..._heritage_."

Sirius let out a small groan when he heard the familiar voice of his future cousin-in-law. Nonetheless, he ground his teeth and turned around. "Go away, Malfoy," he sad with a credible impression of politeness.

"Still not very friendly are we, Sirius?" hissed Malfoy. "But hanging around with riff-raff like this," his gaze flickered towards Dean, "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised."

Dean raised his eyebrow. "And there was me thinking you were a hallucination," he said in a deceptively mild tone. "What a shame I was proved wrong."

Malfoy turned a little pink and his jaw tightened. "If we weren't surrounded by witnesses, I would teach you some respect for your elders, Winchester," he spat.

"Yeah?" said Dean. "Well, if you weren't a girl, _Lucy_, I would quite happily take your respect and shove it up your lily-white ass."

Sirius burst into laughter, which only served to infuriate Malfoy further. He growled and towered over Dean. "You have no idea who you're dealing with, you worthless little Mudblood."

Dean flinched slightly, but then looked up, his green eyes suddenly colder than pieces of ice. "Maybe not," he said, his voice so harsh that Sirius backed away a little. "But I've been around and, let me tell you, I know things and I've seen things that would make you cry like a baby." He held the glare for a minute before looking away. "Come on, Sirius," he said in a completely different tone of voice. "Let's get to class."

Despite being more than a little spooked at Dean's sudden change of mood, Sirius readily followed him and, once they were out of earshot, he clapped him on the back. "You just called Lucius Malfoy a girl!" he spluttered. "I can't believe you did that!"

"I'm sorry," sighed Dean. "I just –"

"No, no, it was awesome! You really shocked him!"

To Sirius's dismay, however, Dean didn't smile back. On the contrary, his face paled slightly and he bit his lip. Frowning, Sirius reached out and rested a hand on the blonde's shoulder. "Hey, don't take what he said too seriously. Malfoy's always been like that to everyone he meets who's not like him. He's called me a blood-traitor all the time and I never had the guts to say what you said to him."

"It isn't that," said Dean as they joined up with James and Remus on their way towards the dungeons for Potions. "All that crap I said about knowing things – I shouldn't have said it. Especially not in front of all those people."

"Why not?" asked Sirius. "They won't care that you were exaggerating; all that matters is that they got to see that bigoted bully taken down a peg or two."

"He's right," piped up James, who was now watching James with a mixture of gruding respect and curiosity. "I wish I'd done it," he added with a pout.

"But I wasn't exaggerating," whispered Dean, his face flushing as they ducked into the classroom. "There are things I know about. But I can't talk about them."

"Why?" asked Sirius.

"We've all got our secrets," said a quiet voice and Severus Snape came into view, his face carefully blank. "I suppose you have as well, Black."

"Well, if he did, Snape, he wouldn't be telling you about them, would he?" said James coolly. "Sirius? Do you want to work with me?"

"Sure." Sirius grinned and went to help James set up, though Snape was still standing there. "Can we help you with something, Snivelly?"

"No, you can't," said Snape, his jaw clenching. "I just came to ask Dean if he wanted to work together."

"Yes, I do," said Dean, following the Slytherin boy and only pausing to shoot James and Sirius a sharp look, which James responded to with a glare.

Sirius, however, continued to stare long after the other boys had looked away from them. Something in Snape's black eyes said that he had also noticed Dean's skittishness after he had boldly confronted Malfoy and was just as curious about it. He hoped he wouldn't ask; Dean had been genuinely horrified by his slip earlier and Sirius could also remember how upset he'd been on the Hogwarts Express when he had blurted out that his mother was dead. Clearly, there was something truly dark in his passt, something he couldn't tell anyone and something he didn't want to even think about. He had to admit, that frightened him a little – he knew about dark magic more than most thanks to his parents religiously following the propaganda, and judging by how scared Dean was, whatever he was hiding could be just as bad, if not worse.

"Sirius." An amused voice sounded at his neck and then Remus was staring at him, his mouth twitching. "Quit trying to bore holes in the back of Dean's head."

"I wasn't!" protested Sirius. "I just..." but he trailed off when Remus just shook his head. "Am I that obvious?"

"Only as obvious as the entire female population of Hogwarts were when they were trying not to openly swoon at him earlier," answered Remus.

"Be serious," snorted Sirius and then laughed. "Oh, wait, that's me."

"Hilarious," retorted Remus. "But ser – really, Sirius, leave him alone. If he's hiding something, there's probably a very good reason for it."

"Like what?" asked Sirius. "He doesn't really think we'd judge him for his past, does he?"

"You mean like no one judged you for being a Black?" Remus barked out a bitter laugh. "Give me a break."

Sirius flinched slightly, but he didn't have any opportunity to respond, because just then the door opened and the professor entered the dungeon. He was not an attractive-looking man; short and extremely large around the waist, to the point that his robes already seemed to be stretched almost to the point of the stitches ripping when he bent over to place his books on the desk. Still, he had a pleasant smile for each student as he took the register and Sirius had heard enough about him to know that he was a decent teacher who wanted to get the best out of his students, regardless of their parentage – even if he did have a reputation for playing favourites sometimes – and that was worth a couple of extra points as far as he was concerned.

He was speaking to the class now. "Welcome to Potions!" he said. "I am Professor Slughorn and I will be here to guide all of you through at least the next five years of this fascinating subject!" He smiled again. "Hopefully, I'll be able to make expert brewers out of you before we say goodbye! Now," he clapped his hands together, "has everyone got a copy of _Magical Drafts and Potions _with them?"

"Yes, Professor Slughorn," everyone chorused.

"Good," said Slughorn. "Now, turn to page one hundred and seventy-eight where you will find the ingredients and method for the Cure for Boils." His mouth twitched a little as a few people chuckled nervously. "It's a simple potion to start with for your first lesson, but if you need any help, please do not hesitate to ask. However, I would advise you now to remember to take the cauldron off the fire before you add the porcupine quills, otherwise the results could be extremely nasty."

In the rush to retrieve the ingredients from the store cupboard, Sirius heard Dean whisper, "Slughorn? Damn, he should sue his dad for giving him that surname. It's just asking for trouble."

Sirius frowned. "Muggle thing?"

Dean chuckled. "Nah," he said. "American thing."

"Oh." Sirius didn't ask any more, instead he just grabbed some dried nettles and turned back to where he and James were working, only to bump into Remus, almost knocking the other boy to the ground. "Sorry!" he said, reaching out to catch him and promptly dropping his nettles. "Oh, _damn_ –"

"I got them," said James, quickly gathering up the ingredients. "Come on."

"Wait," said Remus suddenly. "Sirius, what I said before...I'm sorry. It wasn't fair. You can't help who your family is any more than –"

"No, it's fine," said Sirius quickly. "You're right. I shouldn't pry into Dean's business." He dropped his voice so Remus had to lean over to hear him. "I just...I don't know. I'm curious, I guess."

Before Remus could reply, a loud bang sounded from behind them closely followed by a shriek of alarm. Peter had somehow managed to make his cauldron explode, showering him with the potion. Fortunately, everyone nearby had ducked for cover and were not splashed, but the small boy had been drenched in the stuff and his skin was puffing up so that his face was almost unrecognisable.

Instantly, Professor Slughorn came over and winced. "Oh, dear!" he said as the Slytherins erupted into gales of laughter. "That's not the usual reaction one tends to get when this potion goes wrong!" He turned to Remus. "Mr Lupin, of course, you were working with this young man, weren't you, m'boy?"

"Yes, sir," said Remus quietly, evidently expecting to be punished for not paying attention. "I'm sorry, sir, I was distracted."

"Oh, no, my boy, you misunderstand me!" exclaimed Slughorn. "I merely wish for you to take Mr...Pettigrew, is it?" Peter nodded miserably. "Take Mr. Pettigrew to the hospital wing with me. Can you do that?"

"Yes, sir," said Remus again. "Come on, Pete."

As the trio left, one of the Slytherin boys whispered, "I thought it would be that Mudblood who messed up his potion. Quite what Snape's thinking of, working with _him_, I don't know. Especially after what he said to Lucius earlier. Totally uncalled for."

Unfortunately for them, Sirius overheard and without stopping to think, he rushed over and grabbed the boy's robes. "You take that back!" he snarled.

"What're you going to do, Black, report me?" sneered the boy. "In case you're forgetting, our professor is the head of Slytherin House. I sincerely doubt he's going to take any action against us. Besides, your friend doesn't even know what the word means. Typical." He smirked. "And I don't see anyone else springing to defend him. Not even his _friend_ over there."

Sirius turned around and saw, to his dismay, that the boy was right. Snape was stirring his potion, though his knuckles were clenched tightly around the spoon and his cheeks were slightly pink. But he didn't even look up throughout the entire discussion though it was obvious he had heard every word of it.

"Well," whispered Sirius. "I suppose that just proves what backstabbing, two-faced snakes you lot are. Always looking for the powerful friends and never mind who gets hurt in the process." Glaring at Snape, he stalked away, the thought of messing with the potion suddenly very tempting, but he didn't want to ruin things for Dean, who was already looking as though he'd been punched in the stomach. Their eyes met briefly, but neither of them said anything and eventually, Dean turned back to his potion, quietly asking Snape something. Sirius's jaw clenched sharply, but he knew that, as much as he wanted to, he couldn't react. Instead, he settled for glaring at Snape when Dean wasn't looking.

Remus slumped back against the sofa. "Finished," he said and closed his Transfiguration book. "You?"

"Yep," said Sirius. "James too. Where's Peter?"

"Still in the hospital wing," sighed Remus. "Something went really bad with that potion and Madam Pomfrey's making him stay overnight to make sure there aren't any side effects."

James winced. "Ouch. Thank goodness I'm good at Potions."

Remus frowned. "We've had one lesson. How do you know you're good?"

"I didn't blow anything up!" protested James. "Although I think Transfiguration is going to be more my thing." He smirked a little and then dropped his voice. "Apparently, though, McGonagall's been pulling that trick of turning her desk into a pig for years to try and impress the first-years."

Sirius laughed. "Well, it worked." He wouldn't admit that he had been a little disappointed to realise that it would probably be a very long time before any of them could get that far, even James who had been the first of their group to manage to turn his matchstick into a needle. "Where's Dean?"

"Over there." Remus pointed to where Dean and Lily were sat together pouring over a book, Dean's quill moving rather violently across a piece of parchment, his brow furrowed in frustration. Lily's face was twitching as though she was desperately trying not to smile.

Sirius groaned. "He's still working?" Shaking his head, he got up, ignoring Remus's whispers to leave him be, and dropped down beside them. "Come on, Dean, we've got mischief to be making and you're working?" He peered over Dean's shoulder and his jaw dropped. "You took notes in History of Magic? I thought you were half-asleep!"

"I was," said Dean, blushing a little. "Lily's lending me hers. And making it more interesting."

"That wouldn't be hard," said Sirius. It was true; Professor Binns, their only ghost teacher, had managed to make a bloody and violent goblin rebellion sound about as exciting as a graveyard. "Anyway, you nearly done yet? We're planning a prank!"

"In a bit," said Dean. "I want to finish this first."

"Maybe you should try staying awake," said Lily, but the amusement in her voice took the edge off her words.

"I think you were the only one who managed to stay awake," chuckled Dean. "Even Remus seemed to be drifting off in the middle of his note-taking."

Sirius groaned. "Dean!" he whined. "Come on!"

"Oh, let him be," snapped Lily. "The quicker he gets this done, the quicker he'll be over there."

"But why would you want to work now?"

"Because my dad didn't raise me to be a quitter," said Dean, his head snapping upwards. "Look, I won't be long. You go and sort out whatever prank you're planning and let me finish."

"Fine," grumbled Sirius and sulked back over to where James and Remus were sitting. "He'd rather make History of Magic notes with Lily Evans than play pranks with us," he said.

"That's not exactly what I heard him say," chuckled Remus.

"Besides," whispered James, "him not being here means we now have a target."

"We're going to prank Dean?" asked Sirius, confused. "Why?"

"No, we're not pranking Dean," said James. "We're pranking the git who called him...that word in Potions." He smirked. "Snivelly Snape too."

"Why?" asked Remus. "He didn't do anything."

"Exactly," growled Sirius. "He's supposed to be Dean's friend, but he didn't even stick up for him. No one does that to my friends and gets away with it."

"That and he's a git," said James.

Remus let out a sigh and rolled his eyes at them. "Dean won't thank you for that. Neither will Lily." He stared sharply at them both. "Besides, how're you going to do it? You can't get into the Slytherin common room. And if Dean finds out –"

"If Dean finds out what?" The aforementioned boy had come over and was now watching them with interest. "What's going on?"

"A little payback," said Sirius. "For that git in Potions who called you...that name." He deliberately omitted mentioning Snape's name in his plan; he knew that Dean wouldn't react well to that, despite everything that had happened.

Dean frowned and flopped down beside Remus. "I've been meaning to ask you about that," he said slowly. "He's the second person who's called me that, and I heard it in your Howler. What does it mean?"

"It's a really awful thing to call someone," said Sirius. "But it means someone who has Muggle parentage. It's like saying you've got 'dirty blood' or that –"

"That you're of a lower class – yeah, I get it," said Dean.

"Dean, we don't think that about you," said Remus.

"I know you don't. But there are a lot of people out there who do, aren't there? Sirius's family for a start." He dropped his voice. "And like this 'You-Know-Who' person I've been hearing so much about, but still don't know who he is."

"And that's a good thing," said James firmly. "You don't want to know."

"But I'm a part of this world!" protested Dean. "I need to know!"

"No, you don't," said James firmly. "Not yet. Besides, my dad says there's no way he can get to us at Hogwarts while Dumbledore's in charge, because Dumbledore's the only wizard he ever feared."

Dean's jaw clenched in visible irritation. "Fine," he growled. "I'll just go to bed then." He got up and grabbed his books before storming up to the dormitory.

One of the seventh-years who had been watching them raised an eyebrow. "He's acting like a kid," he scoffed. "A really weird kid."

"There's a reason for that," said Sirius, rounding on the boy. "But as a matter of fact, I think he's right. He is a part of this world, and he does need to know what's going on. If only so he can be prepared for when we get to your age. Because it's only going to get worse before it gets better."

"So, you're going to tell him?" asked James incredulously.

"Yes, I am." Sirius nodded. "James, I have been raised around this all my life. I hate it, I really do, but at least I know what's out there. So have you."

"Fine." James sighed. "But we plan our prank tomorrow!"

"Definitely!" Sirius slapped the other boy's hand before he scrambled up the stairs to the dormitory. Dean was sat on his bed playing with that misshapen car he treasured so much. "Hi."

"Thought you'd be downstairs plotting your prank," said Dean barely looking up.

"Yes, well, I thought I should come up here and give you a talk," said Sirius, dropping down beside him.

"Oh, no." Dean's eyes went wide. "My dad gave me the birds and the bees talk two days after I turned eleven. Having my friend do it is just _weird_."

"Not _that _talk!" scoffed Sirius, though he felt himself heat up at the thought. "I meant the talk about," he checked to make sure no one was listening, "about...about Voldemort."

"Voldemort?" Suddenly, Dean was alert. "That's...that's You-Know-Who, isn't it?"

"Yep." Sirius nodded. "He's...he's more than just a Dark Wizard. He's evil. Him and his followers are killing Muggleborns and Muggles, just because he thinks they're unworthy of magic. But not just them – you get in his way and he will kill you as soon as look at you if he can't recruit you."

Dean went very white. "Re-recruit you?"

"To join his followers. Death Eaters, I think they're called." Sirius scowled at the blankets. "But I think Stupid Gits is a better name."

"How...how do you know all this?" asked Dean.

"You can't grow up in a family like mine and not know it," sighed Sirius. "My parents aren't Death Eaters themselves, but they think they've got the right ideas about..."

"About Muggleborn witches and wizards, yeah, I get it," said Dean, closing his eyes. "So, all that stuff in the Prophet about the families who were killed?"

"That was his doing, yeah," said Sirius. "No one seems to know how to stop him, or even if he can be stopped. So many people have died because of him."

"There's got to be a way," said Dean. "There's always a way." He sat in silence for a few moments before he fixed Sirius with a sharp look. "But why does everyone call him You-Know-Who?"

"Dunno really," said Sirius. "Guess they think the name's cursed or something. Think he'll come and strike down anyone who uses his name. If that was the case, I'd have died a million times already."

"Don't take curses lightly, Sirius," remonstrated Dean. "You never know when they might be real." He fiddled briefly with something underneath the collar of his robes and lay down on his back, grimacing. "God, my hand hurts."

"Didn't need to know that Dean," said Sirius, going along with the change of subject.

"From copying all those notes, you prat!"

"Right, whatever you need to tell yourself. Just remember to put those Silencing Charms up, because no one needs to hear – ow!" He yelled as Dean leapt off the bed and landed right on top of him, straddling his hips and whacking him with a pillow. "Hey, that hurts, get off!"

"Never!" cried Dean, reaching down to tickle him. "Give in first!"

"Stop it! Stop...stop tickling me!" shrieked Sirius who was frantically trying to retaliate, but only succeeded in jamming his fingers into Dean's ear. "Seriously, get off me!"

"Er...are we interrupting something?"

Sirius's yelped and looked up, his head poking through the crook of Dean's arm to see James and Remus watching them with a mixture of confusion and amusement. "Why?" he asked innocently. "You thinking of joining in?"

Remus choked and went bright red, but James laughed out loud. "You asking?"

"Not scared are you?" asked Dean, sticking his head out from underneath Sirius's arm. "'Cos I might not look like much, but I bet I could kick your ass blindfolded."

James snorted. "Oh, really? We'll have to see about that!"

Sirius quickly pulled himself to his feet as James and Dean started a mock-wrestling match. "What d'you think?" he asked Remus. "Who's your money on? I reckon James myself."

"Oh, I don't know, Sirius," said Remus with a mischievous grin. "It looked like Dean was getting one over you pretty easily before."

"I was unprepared!" spluttered Sirius. "That doesn't count!"

"Well, we might have to find a time when you are prepared," said Remus innocently.

Sirius laughed, but looking at the cheeky sparkle in Remus's hazel eyes, he felt a weight lift from his chest that he hadn't even been aware of until then and, for the first time in his young life, like he was somewhere he really belonged.


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

It was a little chilly when Severus and the rest of the first-year Slytherins made their way out towards the grounds, but the sun was shining high and bright and the there was barely a cloud in the crisp blue sky. He felt a slight spring in his step that until that moment he hadn't even realised was there before, and he slowly allowed himself to smile. It wasn't just that today they would finally be learning to fly – something that had had been looking forward to since he had arrived at Hogwarts, though he had been much less vocal about it than some of the other first-years – but that the Slytherins and Gryffindors would be taking the lessons together.

It was appreciated that very few students from either house would see this as a cause for celebration, especially considering the well-established animosity between the two houses. Indeed, Severus had witnessed the rest of his first housemates express their displeasure extremely loudly and at great length, despite the fact that they obviously knew that the two houses had been paired off like this probably since the infamous disagreement between the four founders. However, while Severus would be the first to admit that the thought of spending more time with certain members of that house – namely James Potter and Sirius Black – was not a pleasant one, knowing that he could see Lily again more than made up for it. He had barely seen his friend since Potions the previous week and on the rare occasions that they did happen to meet each other, they only had time to exchange greetings and smiles before one of them had to rush off elsewhere or got dragged away by their friends.

He wasn't angry with Lily for making new friends in her house – it wasn't as if he he hadn't been doing the same, after all – but he couldn't help but feel a sharp stab of disappointment when he saw her with her housemates. It felt as though the friendship that they had both cherished in their younger years was slipping through his fingers now that they had actually arrived at Hogwarts, even though they had both promised never to let that happen.

Sighing, Severus took a deep breath and stepped out onto the grass behind the Quidditch pitch. Not everyone had arrived yet, but he could see Black and Potter holding court with two of the Gryffindor girls – neither of whom was Lily – as well as that fat little boy, Peter Pettigrew, and Potter's anguished voice was carrying over the wind. Moving slightly closer to listen, Severus felt a sense of vindictive pleasure when he realised that the other boy was wildly bemoaning the fact that he had practically been laughed out of the trials for the Gryffindor Quidditch team two days before, because, being a first-year, he apparently didn't have enough experience. Had it been someone else, Severus might have felt a vague sense of sympathy – no one liked being left out after all – but Potter's protests were so over the top that they just seemed funny and made him sound like a spoiled brat.

He must have been standing there for two long, because one of the girls – the one with sandy coloured hair, Niamh, he thought his name was – looked up and her eyes narrowed as she leaned over to whisper to Black, nodding in his direction. Instantly, Black's head snapped up and a moment later, he was on his feet, glaring furiously at Severus.

"Having fun there?" he snarled. "Enjoying laughing at someone being embarrassed?"

"No," said Severus. "More amused at some people's overexaggerated sense of entitlement."

Black and Potter both stood up, Potter's eyes flashing angrily behind his glasses. "I belong on the Quidditch pitch!" he cried. "I've been flying since almost before I could talk! The air is my second home!"

"Oh, grow up," said Severus contemptuously. "If they thought you weren't ready, you weren't ready. That's all there is to it."

"What do you know about it, Snivellus, I bet you couldn't even get in the air if you had wings attached to your robes," snapped Potter.

"He probably has no idea which end of a broom to sit on," chuckled Black, making Potter smirk.

"I do so!" protested Severus, feeling his cheeks heat up as some of the other students, including a couple of the Slytherins, were starting to giggle. He actually could fly reasonably well, despite a relative lack of experience, and was about to launch another retort along those lines, but before he could, a flash of dark red hair caught his eye and he looked up to see Lily walking outside, smiling. His heart jumped a little and he moved to go over to her, but a hand gripping his arm stopped him. His face morphed into a scowl and he turned expecting to see Black or Potter waiting, but instead found himself looking into the piercing blue eyes of Adam Pritchard, the quiet and bookish boy who slept in the bed beside him.

"What's the deal with him?" he asked, his brow furrowed into a frown. "He's strange."

"Who?" asked Severus, tilting his head in confusion. He looked over to where Adam was pointing and realised then that Lily wasn't alone. Dean Winchester, who Severus had partnered in that first Potions lesson, was with her and they were talking together, Lily grinning all over her face. Behind them, Severus vaguely noticed the other Gryffindor boy, Remus Lupin, but he couldn't take his eyes off the blonde boy talking to his best friend.

When they had first met, Severus had instantly found himself drawn to Dean and intrigued by him. He had that big-eyed innocence and amazement that he knew most Muggleborn students had when they first found themselves in the wizarding world and which Severus had to admit he found rather endearing (not that he would ever say such a thing to his housemates). At the same time, however, he seemed almost jaded and aged beyond his years, and every time he looked at him, Severus found him more confusing.

He blinked out of his thoughts just in time to hear Adam say something about ghosts. "What was that?"

"Just that I saw the Bloody Baron yelling at Peeves and this other ghost on Monday night," whispered Adam. "They were talking about him. Saying that they knew his parents back when he was in America. Peeves was talking about the night his mother died and about the thing that killed her. I've never seen the Baron so outraged and scared. He looked more terrified than if someone said You-Know-Who's name."

"I thought Dean's mother was killed in a nursery fire," said Severus in confusion.

"She was. But apparently, whoever caused the fire in the first place was a real psycho if he's got the ghosts so spooked." Adam chuckled loudly at his own joke before he whispered, "But something's weird with him. It's like his family are some sort of celebrities amongst the dead or something and the ghosts are kind of in awe of him, but they're scared of him too. Even Peeves leaves him alone."

"Seriously?" Severus's mouth dropped a little. Peeves, the Hogwarts poltergeist, was notorius for causing indescriminate trouble around the school and he never seemed bothered at all about who was the recipient of his pranks. For him to actually leave Dean out of them spoke volumes.

"Maybe he's just afraid Dean will get him back for his pranks one day," he suggested, though deep down he knew that wasn't the reason. It was true that Dean liked a good prank as much as the next person – as long as no one got seriously hurt, at least – but he was pretty certain Peeves could easily match anything he came up with. Still, he went with that reasoning for now, because it distracted attention from the much more unsettling thoughts rushing through his head.

"Nah, that can't be it," said Adam, shaking his head. "There's something not right about him."

Someone snorted rather derisively behind them and Severus saw Faustus Crabbe rolling his eyes at them. "Please," he said in an all-too oily voice for an eleven-year-old. "When it comes to Dean Winchester, the Creepy Ghost Kid, the only important thing not right about him is that filth running through his veins that he calls blood." He reached out and put his hand on Severus's shoulder. "Remember that Lucius picked you out of all of us. Don't let that go to waste by hanging around with Mudbloods like him."

For the first – and probably last – time in his life, Severus suddenly found himself in total agreement with James Potter as the other boy shot to his feet and started yelling at Faustus for his use of language. It also gave Severus the opportunity to sneak away from his housemates to where Lily, Remus and Dean were examing a few of the more beaten up broomsticks with a mixture of curiosity, confusion and, in Dean's case, abject terror.

"You mean they're gonna want us to fly?" he squeaked. "On...on those?"

"I'm sure it won't be that bad," answered Remus calmly. "They're not going to make us fly like Quidditch players during our first lesson."

"Still," said Lily, frowning, "these things don't look very safe."

"They're much safer than they look, trust me," said Severus, chuckling when Lily jumped and looked round, a smile breaking out across her face when she saw him. "Otherwise the school wouldn't use them." He nudged Lily's shoulder, feeling slightly playful, and smiled back at her. "Hello, again."

"Hi," said Lily, though she punched him lightly on the arm. "That's for making me jump!"

"Best friend's privilege," said Severus airly before nodding to Remus and Dean. "Hello."

"Hi," said Dean quietly, his eyes narrowing a bit. He seemed a bit uncertain of what to say, and Severus supposed he couldn't really blame him for that. They hadn't spoken to each other since the Potions lesson when they had been working together and Faustus had taunted Dean. Severus could still remember the brief flash of hurt on the other boy's face before he had quickly returned to their potion. He still hated himself for being too frightened to stand up for his friend and now it seemed like he was paying the price for his cowardice, because whatever tentative friendship they had begun to form had vanished.

Before he could say anything, however, Lily asked him, "So, what do you think of the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher this year?"

"Professor Thorne? She seems to know her stuff," said Severus, looking thoughtful. "She certainly seems popular with all the boys over the age of twelve in my house."

"I'm not surprised," said Remus wryly, though he was blushing slightly and Severus knew that he too had been taken by the stunning woman. "She looks like...like what I always imagined angels to look like."

"She's like my mom."

The others all looked sharply around at Dean, Severus nearly cricking his neck. Dean looked up and blushed. "I mean...she looked like my mom did when she first met my dad. I've seen pictures of them together." He forced a small laugh and then seemed to turn contemplative. "She even smiles and laughs like Mom did."

Severus was momentarily speechless. From what he'd heard, he had thought that Dean would have been too young to really remember his mother, having been not quite three when she had died, but it turned out he had obviously been wrong. The quietness in his voice and the faraway look in his eyes told him that he could still remember as clearly as if his mother had only died yesterday. Nervously, he reached out to touch his hand, though he had no idea what to say. Dean jumped at the contact and looked at him in confusion with no small hint of mistrust in his eyes. It made Severus cringe a little, but he knew that he had no right to feel slighted after what he'd done. He wanted to say something, to try to make it right, but the words seemed to get stuck in his throat and all that came out was a slightly strangled mumble.

Remus cleared his throat at that moment, breaking the awkward silence. "Do you think she'll stay another year, though?"

"What do you mean?" asked Lily, frowning. "Why wouldn't she?"

"Because no Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher has lasted for longer than a year since someone called Professor Merrythought was here," said Remus.

"Who told you that?" asked Lily.

"James and Sirius." Remus instantly cut Lily off when she opened her mouth to remonstrate. "They both heard that from their families; Sirius's cousin told him and James's granddad told him before he died."

"It's true," Severus piped up. "My mum told me. The old joke around here is that the job's jinxed."

"Jinxed?" Dean looked interested. "Jinxed by who?"

"Dunno," said Severus. "Maybe some kid who didn't know what they were doing."

"James thought Merrythought wanted the job jinxed herself because she wanted to prove that no one could stay in it for more than a year," said Remus.

Lily laughed, but Severus grew thoughtful. He knew very little of Professor Merrythought – she had retired at the end of his mother's first year – but he didn't think that she would have done something like that. However, he equally didn't think that the old joke about the job being jinxed or cursed was too far off the mark. He had done a lot of reading about Hogwarts and he honestly couldn't remember one year, since Merrythought's retirement in 1945, that a Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher had lasted for more than one year. "Maybe Potter's onto something," he said grudgingly, hating that he might actually be in agreement with Potter over anything apart from their shared dislike of prejudice against Muggleborns.

Remus and Lily blinked in obvious confusion, but Dean was looking at him very sharply indeed. "Yeah," he said quietly, with the air of someone obviously considering the idea. "He might be."

"Don't listen to Potter too much," said Lily with no small measure of scorn. "He'll have you seeing conspiracy theories everywhere. I mean, last night," she was addressing Severus now more than the others, "he was convinced that his History of Magic essay was trying to kill him last night."

Dean frowned. "I don't know," he said, but he didn't have a chance to say anything else, because then a tall woman with a stern expression and carrying a highly polished broomstick in her hand strolled out onto the lawns, her beady eyes taking in everyone sat in their little groups.

"Well, what are you all sat around looking stupid for?" she snapped. "Everyone come and stand to the left side of a broomstick! Quickly, hurry up!" She clapped her hands imperiously as the class scrambled over to the row of rather beaten up broomsticks. "Right!" she barked. "Welcome to your first flying lesson! Are you all ready to begin?"

"Yes!" came very enthusiastically from Potter, accompanied by a few rather vague murmurs of assent and an emphatic "Hell no!" which came from Dean and made Severus chuckle a little.

"Well, ready or not, it's time to start," said Madam Hooch. "Place your right hand over the broomstick and – clearly and with feeling, mind you – say 'UP!'"

Severus wasn't remotely surprised when Potter's exclamation was easily the loudest out of everyone's there, nor when his broomstick jumped straight into his hand almost gleefully. His own broomstick had done the same, which hadn't come as much of a shock – he was also excited about flying – but was gratifying nonetheless, especially when he saw the look of shock on Potter's face, not to mention the proud smile Lily was giving him. He also couldn't help but chuckle when Madam Hooch yelled at Black to speak with more feeling after his broomstick had only risen halfway to his hand on the first attempt, and even the smirk on the other boy's face when his second attempt succeeded didn't tamper his amusement. What did surprise him, however, was the sight of Dean stood between Lily and Remus with his broomstick held almost calmly in his hand. He looked surprised and a little nervous, but there was a real determination in his eyes that made Severus smile a little. His friend obviously didn't like flying, but he was nothing if not willing to try. When Dean saw him looking however, he blinked, flushed and immediately looked at the ground, making Severus sigh and barely notice when Madam Hooch came over to correct the grip he had on his broom.

"Now," said Madam Hooch, once everyone had hold of their brooms and their grips corrected, "watch me show you how to mount your brooms and make sure you hold the grip tightly." She glared at some of the boys, including Potter, who were sniggering at the choice of words. "You might laugh, but let's see how funny you find it when you're slipping off in mid-air and breaking bones!"

Everyone instantly fell silent at that and Severus saw Dean turn very pale.

"Right," continued Madam Hooch, her face stern. "Now, everyone watch and follow my lead." She swung one leg over the middle of her broomstick, taking care not to lose her grip, and clamped down tightly, rolling her eyes a little when some of the boys whimpered. "There's far worse pain you could be feeling than a little bit of squeezing if you don't mount your broom properly," she said simply. "Make sure you hold on tight, both with your hands and with your legs. I cannot emphasise enough how important this is; you don't want to be sliding off the end. Now," she looked around, her hawk-like gaze encompassing everyone, "when I blow my whistle, you all kick off hard from the ground. Keep your broomsticks steady and rise a few feet – no fancy business – and then lean forwards slightly and touch back down. Ready? On my whistle, three...two...one."

Severus felt a rush of adrenaline as the Madam Hooch sounded the whistle and he kicked off hard, feeling properly free and relaxed for the first time since he had come to Hogwarts, despite barely being two feet off the ground. He was even feeling happy enough to admit – only to himself, of course – that Potter hadn't been lying, he was a good flier, even though he was a little rocky on lift off. He glanced around at the others and suppressed a chuckle at the thought of what Potter would say if he told him that Black was a better flier than he was (which was true). Friends the two may be, but Severus knew enough to know that Potter was extremely competitive when it came to being on a broomstick.

On his right, Dean and Lily were hovering close together, almost as though they were trying to hold each other up. Dean's hands were clenched so hard around the broom that his knuckles were starting to turn white and he was staring straight ahead, resolutely not looking downwards. Lily didn't seem to be faring much better; her grip was a little more relaxed than Dean's, but she was biting her lip so hard that Severus was surprised it wasn't bleeding. He gave her a nod of encouragement and she returned a tight smile and took a deep breath.

When they finally came back to earth, Madam Hooch nodded approvingly. "Not bad for your first flight," she said. "There's work to put in, but we'll definitely make Quidditch players out of some of you."

"Yeah, we will!" shouted Potter, grinning and slapping Black's hand.

Lily and Dean, however, looked much more uncertain, something Madam Hooch obviously noticed, because she said, "And for others, there's broomstick maintainance, which is just as important as learning to fly."

Now, a curious murmur rippled around some of the students. Dean looked extremely interested. Lily looked thoughtful and Faustus Crabbe wrinkled his nose and muttered something about "house-elf work".

"Don't assume that Quidditch is the only part of flying," said Madam Hooch sternly. "Taking care of your broomstick is not only crucial, but it's also fun and very interesting."

"It's like fixing a car!" piped up Dean, his eyes widening. "I mean, you can drive a car, but it's really cool to look inside and find out how it works and keep it running!" An excited flush was spreading over his face. "It's like that with a broom! You've got to make sure it can do its job before you can fly on it!"

"Exactly," said Madam Hooch. "You've done your reading, I take it, Mr. Winchester?"

"I like fixing things," said Dean with a shrug. "It's fun. I did some reading about broomstick care before I came here. It was really cool!"

"Well, I approve of your enthusiasm, Mr. Winchester," said Madam Hooch who, like Severus, seemed to be fighting the urge to giggle. "Five points to Gryffindor, I think, for enthusiasm." She clapped her hands. "Now, as you may have noticed, these broomsticks are rather old and worn, but with some care and attention, we can get them up and running as good as new – which is going to be your project for the next few weeks. Once you can show, not only that you are confident in the air, but also that you know how to care for your broomstick and keep it in prime condition, then you can begin to call yourselves proper fliers. Now, I want each of you to take a broomstick and then I will put you into pairs. And I must emphasise; you _will_ work with your partner, whoever they are and regardless of your personal feelings towards them, are we clear?" She glared at everyone and Severus wondered if she was one of the few people who no one dared to argue with; she was certainly intimidating enough.

"Now," continued Madam Hooch, "I will, of course, be around to offer help when required, but I want to see each team using their own initiative. I noted that not all of you are comfortable in the air and that equally, not all of you seem keen on the idea of maintainance. Both aspects are equally vital, and you will be teaching each other how to carry them out." She waved her wand and a number of old looking black boxes came flying out of the broomshed and rested at her feet, followed by a pile of pale blue books. "Now, when I have paired you off, I want each team to take one of these flying guides and one of these servicing kits. They're old, but still very usable." She cleared her throat. "The first team is James Potter and Lily Evans."

Severus stifled a sigh of disappointment, but Lily looked nothing short of horrified as she walked over to Potter, taking care to keep her distance from him as she picked up one of the kits and the books. As they caught each other's eyes, she managed to give him a sad smile.

"Remus Lupin," called out Madam Hooch, "and Sirius Black." This time, there was no sign of annoyance from either partner; Severus knew that Black and Lupin were friends. Madam Hooch, however, did seem a little surprised, but she quickly hid it and called out. "Faustus Crabbe and Peter Pettigrew," with a piercing glare in Crabbe's direction. Severus couldn't blame her; his housemate was visibly horrified at the thought of having to work with Pettigrew and seemed to be itching to say something extremely inappropriate, though one look at the flying teacher's face and he visibly deflated. For his part, Pettigrew's rotund body seemed to be shaking all over, and his face was white and pasty, his beady eyes darting around everywhere. Severus had to give him some credit; he at least knew that Crabbe wouldn't make things easy for him.

"Once again, I remind you that I will not tolerate any form of prejudice against your partners," cautioned Madam Hooch after she had paired Alice Colton with Adam Pritchard. "Severus Snape –"

"Yes!" Severus blurted out automatically and then blushed. "Sorry..."

Madam Hooch's mouth twitched a little. "Severus Snape," she repeated, a small amount of amusement in her voice, "you will be partnered with Dean Winchester."

Severus's mouth dropped a little in surprise and he saw Dean whip round sharply to stare at him. His eyes were wide with something that Severus couldn't identify, but he didn't keep eye contact for very long before turning towards Madam Hooch and picking up their tools. Immediately, he opened the servicing kit and started looking through it, an intrigued expression on his face and his eyes widening even more. Severus watched for a moment and then went to pick up two of the broomsticks that were still lying on the ground.

"Come on," he said, trying not to show how excited he actually was. "Let's get started."

Dean glanced upwards and looked at him for a split second, his mouth twitching a bit, before he nodded stiffly and sat down on the grass, pulling out the battered handbook from the servicing kit and reading through it, his brow furrowed in thought. He didn't look up once, though Severus could see him clenching his jaw a little as he read. He sighed; clearly, Dean was still angry about what had happened. He didn't blame him for that, but he was determined to make things right, starting from the beginning with this project.


	7. Chapter 6

_Hey guys, here's another chapter! I'm heading out to Australia tonight and I won't have my laptop, so I won't be able to update for a few weeks :( But I will be taking a multitude of notebooks with me so I can get some writing done while I'm there! Love you all! xxx_

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 6<span>

Nearly a month had passed since the first flying lesson, since Severus had resolved to fix and strengthen his all too tentative friendship with Dean before it was too late. He had planned to use the time they had been spending on flying and broomstick care lessons to do so, thinking that if they had to work together in such a close capacity, they should at least get along well whilst doing it. Unfortunately, things weren't turning out anything like as he had hoped they would. The only times he managed to even talk to Dean were during their flying lessons when they were forced to work together and while the other boy was polite and attentive with him, he was also resolutely fixated on his work and when he did speak to Severus, it was in a manner that was totally neutral and the only sign of how much he enjoyed his work was the way his eyes lit up at the sight of the worn out servicing kit and the affection and care he showed when he polished the handle or clipped the twigs.

In truth, Severus knew that things could have been a lot worse. Dean hadn't done anything petty like switch partners to get away from him and he didn't treat him like he had a horrible disease. It also wasn't like he ever actively looked to exclude him, either; they had barely seen each other outside of classes. He just never actually made the move to talk to him, although Severus had noted a few moments where it had seemed like he had wanted to. Unfortunately, every time, Dean had been surrounded by his Gryffindor friends, including Potter and Black, and Severus didn't want to have this sort of conversation in front of them.

He flipped open the parchment he was holding in his hand and scanned the letter he had scribbled out. He had taken a long time over writing it – the crumpled pieces of parchment that were still scattered over the table in the Slytherin common room and the ink still dripping onto the carpet from when he had upended his bottle in frustration were a testament to that – and now he wasn't even sure he wanted to send it. He re-read it to himself for what felt like the millionth time since he had written it.

_Mum, _

_Things at Hogwarts are fine, but I need your help with something. There's a boy in Gryffindor, Dean Winchester. But he's not like what you said the Gryffindors you knew were like. There's something about him that makes the ghosts act really weird, like they know him and his family. But he's Muggleborn and...well, you know what most Slytherins think about Muggleborns. I don't care about that, but one of my housemates called him a Mudblood in our first Potions lesson and now he thinks I agree with them and I don't, but I don't know how to tell him that. I really like this boy, Mum, but what can I do to show him I care for him and not what he is? He has got his own friends in his house, but he always still seems lonely. _

_Write back soon,_

_Severus._

Even now, re-reading it, the words sounded stupid. He scowled at the parchment, feeling like he was barely five years old rather than eleven. Surely he was old enough that he didn't have to run to his mother for every little problem he had. Now he was at Hogwarts, this was his chance to be independent and to prove that he could make his own decisions at last.

"Except that I made that decision to let Crabbe laugh at Dean in Potions," he grumbled to himself. "And that's what got me into this mess in the first place." Gritting his teeth, he told himself he could stand the embarrassment of having to ask his mother for advice if it meant that he could salvage his friendship with Dean, and made his way to the Owlery. On his way, however, he happened to glance out of the window and saw two people crossing the grounds. He frowned and craned his neck when he realised that one of them was Madam Pomfrey, the Hogwarts nurse, who Severus had – thankfully – only had limited contact with, despite Potter and Black's attempts at getting him sent there. Interestingly, it usually ended up being them who ended up there with interesting injuries. He wasn't sure who the boy beside her was, though, but he knew that he recognised him from somewhere. Unfortunately, he seemed to be taking care to stay in Madam Pomfrey's shadow and Severus couldn't make out his features accurately enough to tell who it was. He lingered for a while to wait and see if he revealed himself, but when there was no further sign of him after several minutes, he shrugged and sauntered off.

As always, when Severus approached the Owlery, the smell of dead rats and owl droppings assaulted his senses, making him wrinkle his nose in disgust. Upon entering, he was hit by the chilly wind coming from the glassless windows and instantly wished he had brough his cloak; he had forgotten how cold the room could get on windy days. Clamping his mout shut, he drew his robes closer to him and stepped through the piles of straw, ducking as one of the school owls – a large and severe-looking barn owl – came a little too close to ripping clumps of his hair out with its talons.

"Potter and Black might think that was an improvement," he muttered sardonically to himself as he called his own owl, Calamus, down from the rafters and let him balance on his arm. "They'd love it if my greasy hair got ripped off by a demented bird." He shook his head. "And now I'm stood on top of," he glanced down and frowned, "a dead rat having a conversation with my owl." He shook his head at the utter ridiculousness of the situation and attached the letter firmly to Calamus's foot. "Take this quickly, yeah?" he whispered, petting the owl's head absently. "And come back soon."

Calamus nipped his ear gently and Severus chuckled as the feathers flapped at his head, tickling his temple. "Go on, then," he laughed, guiding him towards the window and letting him fly off. "Safe journey." He leaned on the windowsill and watched him fly away until he was little more than a tiny speck on the horizon. "Hmm."

Eventually, the cold got too much for him and he tore himself away from the view of the mountains and started back down the stairs towards his common room. It probably wouldn't feel much warmer there, but at least he wouldn't have the wind blowing everywhere or the unsettling feeling that he was treading on something he shouldn't be. Just as soon as that thought came to him, something fell on top of his head and dropped onto his shoulder and he couldn't help but scream when he realised that it was a rather badly mutilated bird. Looking up, he saw a brown owl soaring around the rafters, its wings flapping in annoyance.

"Hendrix! Get back here!"

Severus froze in astonishment at that voice and slowly turned around and saw Dean picking himself off the floor, his tangled hair and his robes full of straw and his face flushed scarlet with the effort of trying to catch his owl. There was a rather stuffed parcel in one hand that rattled every time he moved. Apparently, the sound was attracting the owl – and, really, Severus had to wonder what kind of a name Hendrix was for an owl – but every time Dean got up to attach the parcel, the bird would take offence at something and fly off again, usually dropping something on his unfortunate master as he did so.

"Get down here, you dumb owl!" shouted Dean, scrambling to his feet. "I've got a parcel for you to send!" He shook the package loudly, but still the owl watched him balefully. "Okay, look, if you come down and let me send this thing off with you, I'll give you a treat. Look!" He plucked one of the rats off the floor and held it out. "Here's a nice dead rat for you!" he called out, forcing a grin to his face, though Severus could see that he was holding it at arm's length and he looked vaguely nauseous, especially when the rat revealed that it wasn't as dead as he had thought, and started wriggling in his grasp.

"It might help if you actually didn't look as though you wanted to burn the rat alive," Severus commented, trying to hold back his amusement; laughing in Dean's face wasn't going to help his cause if he was trying to repair his friendship with the boy.

"I'm trying," growled Dean, though he barely looked round and Severus had a feeling that he hadn't really registered who he was talking to, or that they were alone in the Owlery. But he forced a brighter smile onto his face. "Come on, Hendrix, come and get your," he checked his watch, "lunch, I guess. It's a bit late for lunch, but it's too early for dinner," he added with a small smile in Severus's direction, though it seemed more like a generally absent-minded smile than anything else. Even so, it was the first real hint of anything more than calm detatchment that Dean had shown him in a long time and it made Severus's insides loosen up a little bit and he actually laughed out loud when Hendrix abruptly nose-dived from the top rafter and almost ploughed into Dean's stomach before he messily attacked the rat in Dean's hand.

"Yeah, all right, already!" Dean was almost chuckling even as he attached the parcel onto the owl's leg. "Ew, gross, you're getting rat guts all over me, you daft bird," he scowled, but there was clear affection in his voice. "All right, get on with you and don't eat any of those sweets, okay? I don't want you getting sick." He shook his head as Hendrix flew off. "That owl is worse than Sam for not doing as he's told."

"What's in the parcel?" Severus blurted out.

"Oh, just some Every-Flavour Beans for Sammy," answered Dean vaguely. "Specifically, the nasty flavours. Then again, he might just like sprout-flavoured sweets; he's strange like that." He laughed. "Either that or he'll just feed them to Dad."

Severus rolled his eyes. "I'm sure your dad will love that." He cleared his throat. "Dean –"

But he was cut off by a hand gripping his shoulder and when he turned around, he saw two older boys – Mulciber and Avery, he thought their names were – standing behind him, both of them watching him sharply. "Yes?" he asked, forcing his voice to remain calm.

"We've been looking for you," said Avery, raising one perfectly sculpted eyebrow. "Crabbe said he saw you coming this way with a letter."

"Oh." Severus nodded. "I was writing to my mother, just telling her what's been going on lately."

"Indeed." This time it was Mulciber who spoke. "Well, I assume you've sent the letter?" He smiled a little when Severus nodded, though his eyes remained hard. "In that case, perhaps you should come back to the common room. This place can get very cold indeed and being here too long can be...undesirable."

Severus didn't miss how the older boy's cold eyes glanced briefly in Dean's direction, but he didn't say anything about it. Instead, he nodded. "I'll be down in a moment. You go ahead."

"Don't be too long," Avery called out behind him as the two boys left. "You don't want to catch anything."

"Right," sighed Severus, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He turned back to Dean. "I should, er..."

"You'd better go." Dean's voice had returned to quiet neutrality and he didn't look up as he brushed the last of the straw off his robes. "So should I; everyone will be wondering where we are."

Severus flinched a little but nodded. "I'll see you around."

"Yeah."

Dean didn't say anything else, but Severus noticed how his hands shook a little bit. He opened his mouth a few times, wanting to say something – anything to take that blank look off his face – but he couldn't find the right words, so he shrugged and raced down the stairs, intending to go back to the Slytherin common room. However, just outside the Great Hall, he ran smack into someone and nearly ended up being knocked to the ground. Instinctively, he whipped out his wand, ready to retaliate if he had to – he'd already been the victim of pranks from Black and Potter too often to be cautious – only to realise that the person glaring at him was none other than Argus Filch, the Hogwarts caretaker, who seemed to take an undue amount of pleasure in catching students where they shouldn't be. While Severus knew that he wasn't actually breaking any rules by being out of his common room, he knew that with the mood Filch had been in over the last few days, he would look for any excuse to pin something on a student. Sure enough, a moment later, his face split into an almost malicious smile and his eyes lit up with deranged glee.

"What are you doing here?" he snarled.

"I was sending a letter," said Severus calmly. "To my mother," he added, just for good measure.

"Indeed?" Filch arched his eyebrow. "Tell me, do you think I'm a fool because I'm the caretaker?"

"No!" squeaked Severus. "Not at all!"

"Good!" snapped Filch. "Because I know about your scuffles with those Gryffindor scoundrels and I know that you like to give as good as you get. So, tell me, what would make me believe that you were actually sending a letter to someone else so you could get something to retaliate with? Something else that I have to clean up after, no doubt!"

"I wasn't ordering anything or asking anyone for anything!" insisted Severus, though he knew that wasn't entirely true; he had asked his mother for advice, but he didn't think that was the same thing and he had no plans to actually mention it. Besides, Filch knew of the rivalry between Slytherin and Gryffindor; Severus very much doubted he'd believe him if he said that he was trying to get some help on how to befriend a Gryffindor.

As it was, Filch still looked distrustful. "Convenient that I only have your word for it," he said. "How do I know that I'm not just having to –" but he was cut off when someone cleared their throat. Both he and Severus looked around to face Evan Rosier, a fourth-year Slytherin boy, who was watching the exchange with a clenched jaw. For his part, Filch quickly recovered his dour demeanour. "Yes?" he growled. "What would you be doing here, boy?"

"I was just passing," said Rosier mildly, "and I overheard your conversation. I saw the letter Severus was sending. He was speaking the truth, so if you don't mind..."

"You saw it?" spluttered Filch, his posture visibly deflating.

"I saw it." Rosier's eye twitched. "So, we'll be going." Without waiting for an answer, he caught Severus's arm and led him back to the common room.

"Thanks," muttered Severus, feeling a little awkward.

"I wouldn't go thanking me," said Rosier, his tone now mild, almost amused. He led Severus to the table he had been at earlier and pointed at the still scattered pieces of parchment, some of which were now unfolded and his writing visible. "So, trying to make friends with the Winchester boy, are you?" he asked in a casual voice. "Well, I suppose there are worse choices you could make."

"You read them?" spluttered Severus.

"Please." Rosier snorted. "If you will go leaving things lying around..."

"Now, now, Rosier, play nicely." Lucius Malfoy appeared at his shoulder. "Let's not scare the poor boy away." He sat down at the table and motioned for Severus to do likewise and tapped his wand against the scattered parchment, causing them to vanish, before settling back. "Leave us alone, would you?" he asked Rosier, who flushed, nodded and quickly disappeared.

"I like you, Severus," Lucius said after a pause. "You're an intelligent boy. I hear already you've made excellent progress in Potions."

"I suppose so," said Severus uncertainly.

"Oh, don't be modest!" laughed Lucius. "From what I've heard, Professor Slughorn has been very impressed with your abilities – as indeed am I." He smiled like a proud father and Severus felt a warm glow inside him. "However," Lucius continued, growing serious, "I'd like to take it upon myself to offer you some advice."

"What sort of advice?" asked Severus, tilting his head.

"Be careful who you make friends with," said Lucius. "I do not wish to control your decisions, but I would say that if you make the wrong friends, you could find yourself somewhere you do not want to be. On the other hand," and he smiled, "if you let me look after you, I can help you find somewhere you belong. Just think on it." He patted Severus on the shoulder and stood up to leave, but then stopped and turned back, holding something out. "Oh, also, this is for you; I nearly forgot to give it to you."

Severus frowned and took the rolled up piece of parchment fastened with a purple ribbon. "What is it?"

"As I said, Professor Slughorn has been extremely pleased with your work," said Lucius. "He only offers these invitations to his very best students and, as far as I know, he has never invited first-years. You should feel honoured."

Severus opened the parchment and scanned the letter, which was inviting him to dinner in his quarters that night. "Do you think I should go?" he asked Lucius.

"Absolutely," said Lucius without hesitation. "I can tell you from experience, Slughorn keeps excellent company and I would be thrilled to introduce you to them."

"Well, then," said Severus, feeling a sudden grin spread over his face, "how could I possibly refuse?"

* * *

><p>As it happened, Lucius had been right. The company at Slughorn's party was made up of students from all the houses and though there were no other first-years that he could recognise, they had all made him feel welcome and had been extremely impressed with his Potions expertise. Lucius had left at some point during the evening, saying that he had an important meeting, but Severus needn't have worried that he would be left with no one to talk to, because everyone had apparently been fascinated by Slughorn inviting a first-year to one of his parties and had all come to talk to him themselves. At first, he had found this a little unnerving, not being used to large crowds of people being interested in him, but gradually he had allowed himself to relax enough with the fellow members of the 'Slug Club', as he learned the group was informally known. Privately, Severus thought that was a rather stupid name, but he knew that it would be rude to say so and he didn't want to alienate the people who could be his friends or to offend the professor who already seemed so taken with him.<p>

While he had been pleasantly surprised at how the evening had gone, Severus did however find himself feeling much more comfortable now that he was finally on his own. He had hung back a little, waiting for all the others to leave so that he could walk back by himself. A couple of the Slytherins had wanted to wait, but he had told them to go on ahead, that he wanted to wait and speak to Slughorn. It hadn't been a lie; he had told his teacher that he'd enjoyed himself and thanked him for the invitation before he left. Now, however, he was able to walk back to his common room in peace, hopefully without worrying about being seen and that could, in turn, give him an opportunity to get a better look at the castle itself.

He was just changing direction towards his common room, when he heard a noise behind him. Immediately, he tensed up and reached for his wand, thinking that it might be Black or Potter sneaking out after dark. He felt slightly smug when he realised that, if it was, he could report them for being out of bed after curfew. But when he actually rounded the corner and realised who he had actually heard, any thoughts of reporting slipped straight out of his mind, because he saw Dean sat in the windowseat surrounded by the four house ghosts, all of them looking sympathetic, even the Bloody Baron.

"Your mother was an amazing woman, Dean," said the ghost wearing a ruff and tights – Nearly Headless Nick, Severus reminded himself. "She'd be so proud of you."

"You think so?" Dean's voice shook a little.

"Of course she would!" This time it was the Baron who spoke. "She _was_ a truly wonderful woman, Dean. I know that, as a ghost, that's probably not the first thing you'd expect me to –"

"Shhh!" hissed Dean frantically. "Don't say that out loud! I don't want everyone here knowing...knowing who I am and...and what I've done."

Severus blinked in confusion. What did that mean? What could Dean have done in the past that he thought could be so awful? And did the ghosts truly know his mother? He shook his head; the blonde boy was becoming more and more of a mystery to him each day.

"I will tell my friends," Dean was saying, his voice calmer now. "Just...not yet. I want to be sure I can trust them first."

"Don't wait too long," said the Fat Friar. "They might not be too happy if they find out some other way."

"I know." Slowly, Dean hopped out of the windowseat and smiled nervously up at the ghosts. "Thanks."

Severus knew he had to leave quickly, but his feet wouldn't move fast enough for him to leave before Dean saw him. He sighed. "Hi."

"Hi," said Dean. "What're you doing up?"

"Slughorn was having a party and he invited me." Severus chuckled nervously. "You?"

"Dumbledore wanted to see me," said Dean, shrugging. "It took a while and no, I'm not going to explain why. All you need to know is that I didn't do anything wrong."

"Okay," said Severus, backing up a little at Dean's defensiveness. Before he could stop himself, he blurted out, "Dean, I've been meaning to talk to you for a while now."

"Oh?" A faintly curious look passed briefly over Dean's face, but he still looked guarded. "Look, if you're wondering what I was talking about with the ghosts –"

"No!" Severus shook his head. "No, it's nothing like that." He gathered all his courage and looked Dean straight in the eye. "I know what you're thinking about me and, well, you're wrong. I know a lot of my house do care that you're Muggleborn, but I don't. And I know I let you think I did but –"

"Severus," interrupted Dean. "I know. I mean, I didn't at first, but I do now. Lily and I talked and she said you two had been friends for ages and I realised that you wouldn't...I mean, if she..." he stopped and sighed. "Basically, we're good. We are, right?"

"Yes." Severus couldn't help it; he laughed out loud. "Yes, we're good." He was startled to find himself wanting to wrap the other boy in a hug, but didn't think Dean would appreciate that, so he settled for clapping him on the shoulder. "Hey, how do you fancy finding out what real flying is? None of that fancy rubbish that Potter keeps on showing off with, just you, me and a broomstick." Seeing Dean turn pale, he chuckled. "Don't worry, I'll keep hold of you."

Dean hesitated, but nodded. "I guess there's nothing like hands-on experience. When?"

* * *

><p>The next day found Severus and Dean twenty feet off the ground flying around the Quidditch pitch, Severus sat at the back showing Dean how to guide the broomstick. He could tell Dean was nervous – he had been too the first time he'd ridden a broomstick – but he could also tell that he was starting to enjoy himself a little. He threw back his head and laughed.<p>

Dean frowned. "What?"

"Nothing." Severus smiled.


	8. Chapter 7

_Hey, everyone! I'm back from Australia (nice trip, if with slightly iffy weather, but hey, that's life I guess!) and armed with a new chapter! :) _

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 7<span>

Remus Lupin hated being lied to. For him, lying was a sign of weakness and cowardice and it made him sick with anger. This, he felt, was especially true when the people who were lying to you were people you trusted, such as your family and your friends. So, with that in mind, Remus thought that he had to be the world's biggest hypocrite.

Because for all he hated being lied to, here he was at Hogwarts and he had made four good friends – and yet, he was already telling some of the biggest lies imaginable to them. The worst part was that he didn't even feel half as guilty about it as he knew he should have done. There was always that sinking feeling in his stomach each time he had to make up a story (which was surprisingly often considering he had only been at Hogwarts for a month and a half). But each time, he found himself pushing those feelings away with the knowledge that he had no choice but to keep what he was a secret, otherwise the consequences could be disastrous for Dumbledore and for Hogwarts, not to mention for him as well.

Remus hated that. He hated feeling that he could justify what he was telling his friends when it went against all his principles. He trusted them and they trusted him; it wasn't fair that his lies should have good reason, even though he knew, deep down, that they did. Unfortunately, he also knew that there was little or nothing he could do about it without causing problems for far too many people who didn't deserve them.

Still, he knew that he was extremely lucky just to be where he was. No other children like him had been granted such an opportunity before and he knew that the main reason – probably even the only reason – that _he _did was because Dumbledore believed that everyone deserved a chance to learn. Remus knew only too well that he had to prove that he did deserve this chance and that he was keen to learn. He could still remember the day that he had received his letter and the mixture of feelings that had been swirling inside him at that moment.

* * *

><p><em>Remus was miserably playing with his bowl of breakfast cereal, barely even noticing when the milk spilled over the sides and onto the table. His parents didn't even bother to chastise him, instead they just looked at him with eyes full of sympathy. All of them knew very well what this day meant and no one's efforts, however brave, could hide it. His father would occasionally open his mouth and sit up as though he had found a way to break the ice, only to then shake his head and stare back down at the table. His mother was by the sink whistling a forcibly cheerful tune as she washed the dishes, which Remus found, if anything, even more annoying, especially with the way her eyes dimmed every time she looked around at him.<em>

_After a few more minutes of this, Remus's father rose from the table, looking at his watch. "I've got to get to work," he said, bending to kiss Remus on the forehead. "Be good for your mother, won't you?" _

"_Yes, Dad," said Remus – his dad said almost exactly the same thing to him every day before he left for work. It was a part of their routine._

"_Oh, honey," his mother chuckled, "you know as well as I do that Remus is never anything less than perfectly well-behaved!" _

"_I'm eleven, Mum," said Remus, suddenly unable to stop himself. "I'm not a little kid who's going to run off into trouble any more. Besides, it's not as if I ever went looking for trouble. It just found me."_

_Silence fell at those words and both his parents turned around to look at him. Remus winced under his breath. He hadn't meant to say that and he knew perfectly well what he had made them think about. His mother opened her mouth a little, but then any words she might have spoken were cut off by a loud gasp and she grabbed her husband's arm. He turned around, looking confused for a few seconds, but then his own mouth dropped open._

"_Mer – Merlin's beard," he stammered. _

_Remus, his curiosity piqued, was about to ask what was going on. But then, he felt something brush over his head and when he looked around he saw a dignified-looking barn owl flying out of the open window behind his father's head. Frowning, he turned back ot the table and nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw a heavy yellow parchment envelope addressed to him in green ink sitting calmly beside his half-empty bowl of cereal. Slowly, Remus reached out with a trembling hand and picked it up, turning it around to see what he knew was the Hogwarts crest with its eagle, badger, snake and lion staring back at him. He turned to his parents, wondering what he should do now._

"_Open it, son!" his father insisted almost impatiently._

"_Yes, open it!" his mother chimed in. _

_Now properly shaking, Remus tore open the envelope. Several folded sheets of parchment fell out onto the table, but his eyes were caught by the one sheet that had broken away from the others and was now lying flat in front of him._

_'Dear Mr. Lupin,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

_Term begins on the first of September. We await your owl by no later than the 31st July...'_

_There was more in the letter – much more than had been in his father's letter which was hanging framed above the fireplace – but Remus didn't notice it. He didn't notice anything beyond the words 'you have been accepted to Hogwarts'. He could hear his parents talking animatedly behind him as they read the rest of the letters, and he knew there were a lot of other details to work out, but at that moment, he didn't care. A mixture of shock, fear and excitement was flowing through him and warming him like melted chocolate. He was going to Hogwarts!_

* * *

><p>Remus could remember how he had tried to keep a hold of those happy feelings when his parents had constantly been reminding him of how he had to make sure he kept his 'condition' quiet from everyone else. The teachers knew, of course, but Remus could tell no one else the truth. So, each month, he would have to come up with a reason for his disapperance, not to mention the scratches and scars that would come as a result of his nocturnal activities. The latter, to be fair, wouldn't be too much of a problem to explain; Remus was sometimes a little on the clumsy side and he knew that he could easily explain away those scrapes without any trouble. But the stories about where he had been were another issue altogether. There were only so many times he could use the sick relatives excuse before his friends started to become suspicious. He had already used the line where his mother was sick the previous month and he knew that he couldn't use the same one two months running. Unfortunately, he was finding it rather difficult to come up with another one that would be plausible and he was running out of time; he only had a couple of hours.<p>

Scowling, he dipped his quill in his ink pot and set about writing his Potions essay, hoping something would come to him as he did so. But he had barely made a blot of ink on his piece of parchment when the portrait hole swung open and James and Sirius came in, both covered in interesting-looking splashes of what appeared to be multicoloured slime. Both were laughing heartily and Remus didn't even have to ask where they'd been or what they'd been doing.

"Pulled it off, then?" he asked, managing a smile when the other boys grinned at each other. "I bet you got detention for it, though," he added, feeling curious despite himself. He was also a little sorry that he hadn't been there to help perform the prank, but that Potions essay had been weighing on his mind. Also, he knew that he had to at least try to stay out of trouble – not that this meant he couldn't help plan the odd prank with his friends, of course!

"Yep," said Sirius, dropping onto the sofa beside him. "But it was totally worth it."

"Totally," agreed James.

"Where's Peter?" asked Remus, suddenly realising that the small boy wasn't with them.

"Hospital wing," said Sirius, his smile fading a little. "One of the spells the older Slytherins use caused string to come out of his ears and wrap him up like a mummy. We tried to stop it, but we couldn't. Everything we tried just made it worse."

"That's how we ended up getting caught," said James. "Filch and McGonagall came along, took one look at the scene and, well, I think you can guess the rest."

"I can." Remus nodded. "So, when's your detention?"

"Tonight," said James. "And with Filch deciding he was going to take charge, it's probably going to be a late one and a nasty one." He grimaced thearetically.

"I don't think McGonagall will let Filch do anything too brutal," said Remus, though he had to wonder; it had taken them less than a week to realise that Argus Filch was capable of almost anything.

"The point is," said James, ruffling his hair, "that it's just going to be you and Dean tonight, because it looks like Pete is going to have to stay in the hospital wing."

"Did Dean not get detention too?" asked Remus, frowning. He hadn't thought Dean was the type to run off and leave his friends behind to take the blame for a prank, even if they had been the ones to pull it. He didn't think it was right to leave them to get into trouble.

"Nope," said Sirius, though there was no sign of the anger Remus had been expecting in his voice. "When we got caught, McGonagall gave us the option of cleaning up after ourselves or doing detention tonight. Dean decided to help out and clean up there and then. James and I chose detention."

"Why?" asked Remus.

"Because Snivelly Snape was also there to help clean up," explained James. "We just figured that serving detention, even if it was with Filch, was better than spending time with him. Dean didn't."

Remus stifled a sigh. The five first-year boys had managed to form a close friendship since they had come to Hogwarts. He was glad of it and he enjoyed having real friends who actually seemed to want to be around him for more than help with their homework. However, the one thing that spoilt it – apart from him having to hide his monthly secret – was that James and Sirius simply could not, or would not, understand Dean's friendship with Severus. Remus himself had no great grudge against the Slytherin boy, but he wouldn't consider him a close friend either. Still, he had no objections to studying with him in the library, nor to working with him in Potions (not that this happened very often, because Severus would usually pair up with Dean, Lily or one of his Slytherin friends while Remus would usually work with Peter to try and prevent any disasters). James and Sirius, however, couldn't stand to be around him except to play some prank or other on him.

Before he could say anything, however, Frank Longbottom, a plucky dark-haired second year, scrambled through the portrait hole, accompanied by Gideon and Fabian Prewett. They looked around for a few minutes before Frank's gaze zeroed in on James and Sirius. Sharing a grin, he and the Prewetts rushed over and sat down beside Remus.

"We saw that prank of yours earlier," said Fabian (Remus had finally learned how to tell them apart), "and we were extremely impressed."

Sirius's eyes went round and wide and a huge grin spread over his face. "Really?"

"Oh yes." Gideon nodded. "Excellent work. Shame you got caught, though. But," he leaned forward with a smirk, "still pure genius."

"Well," said Sirius, "we may have pulled it off, but the planning? Was all down to someone else." He nudged Remus meaningfully with his shoulder and winked, making him blush a little.

Frank smiled. "Well, they do say that it's always the quiet ones," he said, winking at Remus.

"I suppose they do," sighed Remus, though he wasn't entirely sure how he felt about that. He was glad to see his friends so happy and he felt a thrill of pride that he had been able to have a part in that. But then he looked up just in time to see Lily turn in their direction and cast a disdainful look towards James and Sirius that settled into mild sadness when she glanced at Remus, before she turned her back on them and sat down in front of the fireplace. He sighed at the clench in his stomach at the sight, but forced himself to turn back towards the other boys who were now discussing the possibility of a Hallowe'en prank.

"It's got to be something good," said Fabian. "I mean, this one could be a hard one to top."

"You're right," said James. "Except for the part where we got caught, obviously."

"Yeah. Speaking of which," Sirius looked at his watch, "James, we'd better go and get some dinner, otherwise we'll be late."

"Detention?" Gideon asked.

"Yep," said James. "But it was so worth it." He grinned at Remus. "We'll see you and Dean later, right?"

But Remus didn't hear him over the sudden violent pounding of his heart. How had he been so stupid? James and Sirius were in detention, Peter was in the hospital wing (and would probably be there for a while considering what some of the older students were capable of, especially the Slytherins). That meant that there would be three less people who he would have to lie to this time. Admittedly, Dean would still be here tonight, but somehow, Remus couldn't find it in himself to worry too much about that, even allowing for the blonde boy's sometimes all too shrewd mind. He felt a broad smile spread over his face and barely managed to resist the urge to cheer before he realised that the other boys were looking at him strangely. He blushed again and cleared his throat. "Er, yeah," he stuttered, dragging himself back into the conversation, "yeah, I'll see you two later on."

Sirius tilted his head. "You okay, Remus? You looked as though you were having some seriously happy thoughts there." He leered a bit, leaving no one in any doubt as to what he believed the nature of those thoughts to take.

Gideon whacked him playfully on the shoulder while James and Fabian laughed. "Leave the poor boy alone!" he chastised mockingly. "The poor boy probably doesn't even know what sort of thoughts you're talking about, there's no need to traumatise him for life."

"Of course I do!" spluttered Remus; contrary to what he looked like, he wasn't a complete innocent. "But that wasn't what I was thinking about. I was thinking how happy I was that there'd be three less people trying to get at my chocolate." He laughed inwardly at his friends' shocked expressions. He knew that the other boys often tried to steal from his chocolate stash, but had so far not succeeded and, now he thought about it, he really was glad that they wouldn't be trying to do that tonight. "You just go and...have fun at detention," he added, "and try not to get into any more trouble okay?"

Sirius snorted. "Trouble? Us?" he asked innocently and called back as he and James left the common room. "It's not our fault people don't like our sense of humour!" He winked at Remus, who could have sworn he'd seen the black-haired boys throw pointed glances in Lily's direction at those words, and left, his robes flying behind him as he ran down the corridor, his laughter echoing behind him.

Remus shook his head. "I'm going upstairs," he said. "Got this essay to finish." Ignoring the rather pathetic sight of Frank and the Prewetts pouting at him, he packed up his parchment, quill and ink and climbed the stairs to the boy's dormitory. He dropped himself on his bed and opened up his essay again, but he didn't look at it. Instead, he started tapping his quill against the parchment and frowning, deep in thought.

"You know, if you really want people to think you're studying, you should remember your textbook."

The amused voice made Remus jump and nearly upset his ink bottle all over his bed, barely rescuing it before he looked up and saw Dean in front of him, eyebrow raised and his copy of _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi _in his hands. "Oh," he said. "Knew I'd forgotten something."

"Yeah, Frank said you left in a bit of a hurry," said Dean, dropping the book onto the bed and flopping down as well. "Y'know, you could have just said you wanted to be alone for a while rather than saying you've got an essay to finish that's not due for another week."

"Have _you_ done it yet?" asked Remus, his mouth twitching a little. He knew perfectly well what the answer was going to be.

Dean blushed a little. "No," he admitted. "But I'm just saying; we've got time, right?"

"Actually," said Remus, an idea suddenly dawning on him, "I've got to go home for a few days. It's my cousin's wedding tomorrow night and she'll kill me if I'm not there. We're really close, you know, and she really wants everyone to be there. I mean, she was talking about making me the ringbearer last time I spoke to her!" He smiled at his friend and if he was talking a little quickly, well, that could easily mean that he was just excited about the whole thing, couldn't it?

To his surprise, however, Dean frowned. "You're...you're going home?"

"Yes." Remus was a little startled by the anxious note to the other boy's voice. "Is that a problem?"

Dean opened and closed his mouth, started to speak several times and then let out a loud breath. "I don't know, Remus. Is it a problem?" Without waiting for an answer, he stood up and started pacing up and down. "I know I'm not the sharpest tool in the box, but I thought we were friends."

"We are, but –"

"Look, if you don't want to talk about it now, fine," interrupted Dean. "Just...aren't there wizarding laws against this kind of thing? You know...meant to keep you safe? Stop you getting hurt?"

Remus, who until a second ago had been panicking that Dean had figured out his secret, was now just completely confused. "What are you on about?" he asked.

"I saw your scars on the train, Remus." Dean's voice was quiet and gentle. "And I saw that you had more when you came back after you said your mom got sick." He shook his head. "Don't suffer in silence, okay? No one deserves that."

_Wait...what? _Remus stared at him. "Hang on," he said slowly. "You think that..." he couldn't get the words out, but he could tell by the look on Dean's face that, yes, he did think that. "Look –"

"If I'm wrong, tell me," said Dean, but the look on his face said that he wouldn't believe it.

"You're wrong," said Remus. "Trust me on this. You're completely wrong." He didn't even think to latch onto the excuse as a reason for his various injuries. There were some lines he just couldn't cross. "I know what it looks like, Dean, but it's not. It's nothing more than what I told you on the train. I'm just clumsy."

"You're sure?"

"Yes, Dean. I'm sure. I know you're just looking out for me and thanks for that, but there's nothing going on." He winced inwardly at the lie but forced himself to meet Dean's eyes. "I'll see you in a few days."

"You've not packed anything."

"I've got everything I need at home." It sounded pathetic even as Remus said it and he fled the dormitory and the common room, Dean's suspicious green eyes burning in his head. Madam Pomfrey looked up from her desk when he came rushing into the hospital wing.

"Remus!" she exclaimed. "You're very early; whatever's the matter?"

"I think one of my friends suspects!" Remus blurted out.

"What?" Madam Pomfrey stood up immediately, eyes wide with concern. "Who is it? Black? Potter? Or that red-haired girl, Lily Evans?"

"No," said Remus with a sigh. "It's Dean. He saw my scars and thought I was being abused at home. I told him that I was just accident-prone, like I did on the train, but...I don't think he believed me." He sighed again. "I said I was going to my cousin's wedding and ran out of there."

"He didn't try and stop you?"

"No," said Remus. "But I just saw the look on his face when I left. He looked really suspicious. I'm not sure whether it's because he still thinks my parents beat me or because he suspects what I am, but..." He stopped when he saw the strange look on Madam Pomfrey's face; partly anxious and partly thoughtful. "What is it?"

Madam Pomfrey sighed. "Remus," she said, "I think we need to go. I know it's early, but you're starting to get wound up and stressed and if that happens..." she stopped and pursed her lips. "Come on, we'll have a talk."

When they were halfway across the grounds, Remus began to feel a little calmer, which was odd, because he also had a very strong feeling that he was about to lose his lunch all over the grass. He took a deep breath and forced himself to focus on a bird that was flying in front of him. It helped a little, until he saw the dilapidated shack coming into view. Seeing that made him remember something else.

"Madam Pomfrey," he said slowly, "did you hear that rumour that this place was haunted?"

"Oh, Remus," said Madam Pomfrey with a laugh, "of course I heard it! Dumbledore himself came up with it. He thought it would dissuade students from coming up here if they thought it was haunted by a particularly angry ghost. Might take a little while for word to spread, but..." She frowned. "Why do you ask?"

"Sirius was talking to us about it," said Remus. "Him and James were joking around, saying it was probably some woman who hung herself after being betrayed by the love of her life or something. I laughed with them, but Dean went really white; I thought he was going to faint. He kept asking Sirius what else he'd heard about it and how long the story had been spreading. It was really strange."

"Hmm." Madam Pomfrey nodded. "Didn't you say he's into all that urban legend stuff?" Remus nodded. "Maybe he's just curious about it."

"Yeah. Maybe."

Remus tried to hold onto that thought later on when he was alone in the shack as the moon broke free of the clouds. But the only thing that he remembered before his mind was taken over was a pair of too sharp green eyes watching him and the thought that maybe he wasn't the only one hiding something.

* * *

><p><em>Please read and review! Much love, Ash :) xxx<em>


	9. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

James slammed his Defence Against the Dark Arts textbook closed and banged his fist three times on his bedpost. "I now call this meeting of..." he stopped, furrowed his brow and wiggled his nose. "Hey, wait, what are we going to call ourselves?"

Sirius laughed. "Great opening line, James. Really attention-grabbing."

Remus tossed a pen in his direction, hitting him in the middle of his forehead. "What do you mean, call ourselves?" he asked James, ignoring Sirius's indignant yelp. "It's not as if we're some sort of legends, like we're in a rock band." He frowned. "Are we?"

"We could be," said Sirius, nodding. "Well, maybe not a rock band, but we could be legends here! Masters of mischief and mayhem at Hogwarts!" He grinned and nodded. "Yeah, the marvellous and magnificent..." he trailed off and scratched his head. "The marvellous and magnificent what?"

"Marauders!" Dean suddenly blurted out. He blushed a little when everyone stared at him. "What? I was just going for a word that started with M."

To his own surprise, Remus found himself chuckling. "Actually, that's pretty good," he murmured. "It fits."

"Yeah, it does," said Sirius. "It makes us sound dangerous."

"And adventerous," added Dean.

"And...cool," said Peter, waving to try and emphasise his point.

James pouted and rolled his eyes a little, but Remus was pretty sure it was only because he wished he'd thought of the name first. "Right," he said, smoothing back his hair, "as I was saying – I now call this meeting of the Marauders officially to order."

"Wait," said Dean, a frown crossing his face. "Who died and made you the boss?"

"My dad always said I was a natural leader," said James. "And I didn't see you jumping at the chance to be in charge, Dean."

"Who says anyone has to be in charge?" asked Remus, hoping to defuse the argument before it could properly start. "We're just friends here, it's not as if we're leading an army."

"Well, I've led my toy soldiers into battle at home," said Peter.

James blinked, evidently as confused as Remus was by the apparent non sequitur. Sirius took the opportunity to pipe up with, "Anyway, let's talk about what we're going to do for Hallowe'en. It's next week and so far," he pretended to flick through a sheaf of parchment, "we've got absolutely nothing."

"Wait, what do you mean, do for Hallowe'en?" Dean tilted his head and raised an eyebrow. "What're we going to do, turn pumpkins into carriages or something?"

Sirius stared at him. "What?"

"Oh, come on!" exclaimed Dean. "I know the wizard and Muggle worlds are a little different and I know it's a really _lame _story, but surely you've heard of Cinderella?"

"I wasn't exactly raised on Muggle fairytales," said Sirius. "Crazy, prejudiced pureblood family, remember?"

"Well, I wasn't –" but Dean abruptly cut himself off, flushed and cleared his throat. "So, what did you think we could do, James?"

"Well, there's the Hallowe'en ball the night before," said James. "Apparently, Dumbledore wanted to spread the holiday over two days this year, or something."

"He may be a little crazy," chuckled Sirius, "but –"

"Dumbledore's not crazy," interrupted Remus, feeling as though he had to defend the Headmaster who had allowed him to come to school in the first place, even if he thought Sirius had a fair point.

"Fine," said Sirius. "He may be a little...eccentric and my family don't exactly approve of some of his ideas, but, you have to admit, he's got style. He's even giving us a great extra opportunity to wreck some havoc, though he probably doesn't know it yet. We have to make sure we don't waste that."

"Yeah," said James, "but how?"

The five boys sat in silence for several minutes, each of them deep in thought (though Remus couldn't help but question how deep some of their thoughts could actually run) when Peter suddenly sat up and blurted out, "We could put stuff in all the pumpkin juice!"

"Spike the punch?" James stared at him in shock. "That's the best you can come up with?"

Sirius groaned. "We're doomed. _Doomed_."

"No, no, wait." Remus sat up, snapping his fingers as an idea came to him. "Peter might just be onto something here."

"How do you mean?" asked Dean. "My brother could have done that prank when he was five."

"Shut up, Dean," said Remus. "Think about it. It's like Sirius said, we've got a great opportunity to cause some mischief. Which is exactly what the teachers – especially McGonagall – are going to expect, particularly if we don't do anything for the week leading up to the ball.

"Oh..." Dean nodded, comprehension dawning on his face. "I see where you're going, Remus and I like it."

"Mind explaining for the rest of us?" Sirius almost whined.

Dean grinned and grabbed a piece of parchment, writing four capital letters on it. "Here," he said, shoving it over towards the others.

James stared at him. "Kiss? What's 'kiss'?"

"You after something, Dean?" snickered Sirius.

"Not 'kiss'," said Dean impatiently. "K.I.S.S. Keep It Simple, Sometimes – or, also, more commonly, Keep It Simple, Stupid."

"Exactly," said Remus. "If you were one of the teachers and you realised that we hadn't done anything while you were all busy preparing for Hallowe'en, what would you think?"

"That the world was coming to an end," quipped Sirius.

Dean shuddered. "Don't even joke about that."

Remus frowned a little, but carried on. "You'd be expecting something big to go off at the ball, right? Something big. So, you won't be watching out as closely for the little things, because you'll be waiting to see if the Great Hall was going to explode in a shower of pumpkins or something."

"Hey, that sounds good!" exclaimed Peter.

James still didn't look convinced. "Yeah, but spiking the drinks? Anyone could do that."

"That's even better," chuckled Sirius, who seemed to have cottoned on. "If we do something that anyone could have done..."

"The teachers are going to have a harder job pinning it on us." Remus nodded, feeling mischievous. "Exactly."

A slow grin began to form on Peter's face. "So, it's a good idea?"

"Yes, Pete," said Remus. "It is." He grinned. "But that's not all we could do. It's like Dean said, keep it simple. Use the classic ideas, normal things. Things anyone can do, that on their own might be..."

"Stupid," said James, but he was also grinning.

"Well, yeah." Remus flushed. "But put them together?"

"You get chaos." Sirius had a smile that looked positively dangerous. "And then at the feast the next day, we do something really big?"

"You mean something where we'll definitely get caught?" asked Dean. "You mean you don't want to do something you can get away with and leave it at that?"

"Where's the fun in that?" asked James.

"Where's the fun in detention?" retorted Dean. "Besides, I overheard the Prewetts and Frank saying something about big plans for the feast."

Sirius frowned. "What's wrong, Dean?" he asked. "You don't really seem totally into this like you were with some of the other pranks we've pulled."

Dean shrugged. "I just...I don't really like Hallowe'en."

Even Remus was shocked at that. "You don't even like the candy?" he spluttered.

"Well...yeah, that bit's okay, I guess," muttered Dean. "The holiday's just not really my thing."

"Why not?" pressed Sirius. "I thought you Americans made a big thing out of it."

"We do," said Dean. "But things like egging houses and breaking windows and using Hallowe'en as an excuse aren't fun."

"Of course it's fun!" exclaimed James. "It's making a mess; that's what Hallowe'en's all about!"

"It's not fun when it happened three years in a row!" snapped Dean. "I don't particularly like things being thrown through my window, especially things like fireballs!"

Remus gasped. "You're kidding."

"Okay, okay," said Sirius, "maybe that's over the top. But, Dean, it won't be like that here. We're not going to do anything really dangerous, we're just going to have some fun."

"I said I was in on all this, okay?" said Dean irritably. "I'll dress up and have fun with you guys and do stuff, like we said. But I'm not suddenly going to start falling in love with Hallowe'en."

Remus nodded. "That's fair." He was sure that Dean's reason for disliking the iconic holiday was far from the whole truth, but something in his face stopped him from asking any more questions. However, he was now more certain than ever that there was more to Dean than was apparent and, he had to admit, it was starting to irritate him a little, purely because he couldn't get the thought out of his head.

_What are you hiding from us, Dean?_

A rolled-up ball of parchment hit him square on the side of his head and he realised that James and Sirius were both staring at him and looking slightly concerned. Blinking, he forced a smile to his face and asked, "So, are we going to the ball in costume?"

* * *

><p><em>Five days later...<em>

Despite the frantic preparations they were making for the ball, the teachers still managed to find time to pile a lot of homework on their students. Even Professor Flitwick, the fun-loving Charms teacher, had managed to pile a long essay on the importance of correct wand movement and, needless to say, there was no stopping the stricter teachers like Professor McGonagall or Professor Thorne who, the Marauders had been forced to admit, was much more than a pretty face and certainly knew her subject. Remus enjoyed his studies, but he had been finding himself feeling almost as tired as he did in the days immediately preceeding and following the full moon, though it was quite a novelty to not be covered in fresh wounds as he usually was. However, he had to admit to thrills of amusement when he saw how they were watching him and his friends with trepidation as though they were waiting for them to do something and then look confused when nothing actually happened. The group of friends had even overheard Professor Slughorn talking to Professor Sprout about the lack of anything going on, which had made James nearly turn purple from trying not to laugh. They had all laughed, long and hard, about it later on when they were alone in their dormitory.

"Can I join you?"

Remus started and looked up, blinking. Lily was standing beside his table and holding her books with an expression of mixed amusement and exasperation on her face. He blushed; it looked as though she'd been trying to get his attention for a while. "Sure," he said, clearing a space for her to sit. "Sorry, I was miles away."

"I noticed," chuckled Lily as she sat down. "Getting some work done without your friends around." She stopped and blushed. "Sorry, that was rude. Where are they, anyway?"

"Er, James and Sirius are over with Frank, Pete's upstairs trying to work out a way to ask Alice to the ball and Dean's gone to the Owlery to send a letter home." Remus frowned. "Apparently, he's going home for a couple of days after Hallowe'en."

"Why?" asked Lily, sounding only mildly interested as she leafed through one of her books.

"Dunno," said Remus, shrugging. "Said it was something for his dad. He looked sad when he said it, so I didn't ask any more." He stared down at his parchment, all those old feelings he'd had about Dean suddenly coming back. "There's something off about him. Like he's hiding something from us. Something really big, and whatever it is, it makes him sad. But all I really know about him is that his mum died when he was little and he came here when he was eight. And then, the other day, he came out and said that he hates Hallowe'en, because some kids threw things through his window, but I know he was lying. Not that it didn't happen, but that's not why he hates it; there's something else. And then there's the ghosts; they all seem to know more about him than any of the rest of us, but they won't say anything. It's really weird." He sat back with a sigh; that had been the most he'd said in one go in a very long time, but once he'd started talking, he hadn't been able to stop. He glanced at Lily, who hadn't said a word, but who was now staring at her book, her eyes wide with shock. "Lily?" he asked. "Lily?"

Lily gasped and sat upright. "Oh, my God," she said. "I've found it."

"Found what?" asked Remus. "Something to help you with your essay?"

"When I met Dean on the train, I recognised his name from somewhere, but I couldn't remember where," gasped Lily. "I mean, I knew I'd read it in one of the books, but when I found out he was Muggleborn, I thought it was something different. But now...it makes sense!"

"What does?" asked Remus.

"You said the ghosts all seem to know who he is?" Remus nodded. "Look at this!" She pushed the book over to Remus and he blinked a few times and tried to focus on the book.

It was a picture of an artist's impression of a burning room, a nursery from the looks of it, judging by the crib beneath the window. In amongst the flames, Remus could just about see the outline of a young woman pinned onto the ceiling, blood staining her stomach, her mouth wide open in a silent scream. A stricken-looking man was rushing through the flames towards the door, carrying a baby in his arms. Puzzled, and feeling a little sick, Remus let his eyes at the text beneath the picture. His heart nearly stopped.

"_On the night of November 2nd 1962, the demon Azazel struck again, this time hitting the town of Lawrence, Kansas, and killing former hunter Mary Winchester in the nursery of her six-month-old son, Sam. Also surviving the blaze were her husband, John and two-year-old son, Dean, the former vowing that he would never rest until the demon who killed his wife was dead and raising his two young sons as hunters himself until five years later, in December 1967, the demon's reign of terror was brought to a close at the hands of none other than Dean Winchester, who despite being only seven years old..."_

There was a lot more, but Remus didn't stop to read it properly. Instead, he stared up at Lily, his heart thumping in his chest. "Bloody hell."

"It all makes sense now!" exclaimed Lily, her almond-shaped eyes widening with excitement. "This must be why Peeves doesn't prank him, he's probably terrified that Dean's going to exorcise him or something if he gets him angry!" She gasped, understanding dawning on her face. "And it's why all the ghosts know who he is and who his mother was! They've obviously heard about them and what they did!"

She sat back, gasping for breath. "Remus, _he's a hunter_."

Silence followed her proclamation. Then, suddenly, Sirius coughed. "Lily," he said. "Turn around."

"Why?" asked Lily, though she did so anyway after giving Sirius a disdainful look. Remus copied her and barely managed to stifle a gasp when he saw Dean behind them, his face drained of all colour and his mouth hanging open in shock. At the same time, he saw everyone else in the common room staring at his friend with expressions ranging from confusion to sympathy to even outright loathing.

Lily also paled when she saw him. "Dean..."

"Don't." Dean's voice shook with suppressed anger, even as his eyes suddenly shone with tears. "I don't want to hear it." Then, without another word, he stormed back out of the common room.

Sirius groaned. "Nice going, Evans."

"I didn't see you jumping to stop me, Black," retorted Lily, but it was with none of her usual bite and she sank back against the sofa. "What did I just do? I'd better go and talk to him, just say sorry and –"

"No," interrupted Remus, jumping up. "At the moment, I think you'll be the last person he'll want to see. I'll go and find him." He tried to speak gently but firmly, but he didn't miss the way Lily flinched and looked hurt as he left. He didn't have time to retort, though; he had to find Dean. In fact, he was so focused on his task that it came as an unpleasant shock when he accidentally rushed straight through Nearly Headless Nick and felt a wave of icy cold rush through him, so much so that he let out a small scream.

"I beg your pardon!" said Nick, coming to a stop. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"Have you seen Dean?" Remus blurted out.

The ghost instantly sobered. "He's in the Charms classroom," he said, looking sharply at Remus. "But he might not want to talk to you yet."

"I know," said Remus, but he continued on anyway until he reached the room where they had Charms. He couldn't hear anything inside, but he pushed the door open very carefully, half expecting something to come flying in the direction of his head. But nothing happened. Instead, he saw Dean sat on one of the desks, his arms wrapped around himself as he stared out of the window. He didn't move when Remus closed the door and sat down beside him. "Hi."

"Hi." Dean glanced briefly at him. "How did you know where I was?"

"Nick," Remus said simply. He cast around for something to say, knowing that 'So, you're a hunter?' wasn't exactly polite, even though it was pretty close to what he was thinking. Instead, he came up with, "So, that's why you don't like Hallowe'en."

"Yeah," said Dean. "It's sort of hard to enjoy it when you're seeing people dressed up as things that you've been trained to believe will try to kill you. And you don't always know what's real and what's not."

Remus nodded. "Yeah, I can understand that," he said. "So..." but he stopped, realising he didn't know what he could say. "You okay?"

"You know, you don't have to dodge around it, Remus," said Dean with a sigh. "You're not the one who told everyone what I am."

"Why didn't you just tell us, Dean?" asked Remus. "We're your friends, we wouldn't have judged you." He knew how hypocritical that was of him, considering what he himself was hiding, but that just didn't seem important right now.

Dean snorted. "You're hardly someone who should be saying _that _to me," he said. "And don't tell me you don't know what I'm talking about. I'm a _hunter_, Remus. We both know what I should be doing and it isn't sitting here talking to you."

Remus felt as if all the air had been punched out of his lungs. "How...how long have you known?"

"The day after you said you were going to your cousin's wedding," said Dean. "If it had just been once, I might not have, but with all those scars, it was too much of a coincidence that you were going off two full moons in a row."

"So, why aren't you pumping me full of silver bullets?" asked Remus bitterly. "Or, at the very least, why aren't you freaking out that your dorm-mate is a werewolf?"

"Believe me, the hunter in me is wondering the same thing," said Dean with a harsh laugh that sounded far too old for an eleven-year-old. "But if I was going to do it, I would have already."

"That still doesn't explan why –"

"Why I'm not totally freaking out?" Dean shook his head. "Oh, I am. Just more over what just happened in the common room than this. Besides, I think I did that earlier, right after I realised."

"That's..." Remus shook his head.

"Yeah." Dean bit his nails. "So, now we know what the other was hiding."

"We do," said Remus. "Wait, is that why you use Silencing Charms when you go to bed?"

"I didn't think you'd want to be woken up in the middle of the night by me screaming if I had a nightmare," said Dean, flushing a little. "Besides," he gave a slightly wicked grin, "it can't hurt to know them now; they'll come in handy later on."

Remus felt his cheeks heat up even as he laughed softly. "Jerk," he muttered, slapping Dean's shoulder.

"Yeah, that's what my brother calls me," chuckled Dean. His face slowly softened into a smile. "You kinda remind me of him, y'know."

"Sam, you mean?"

"Yeah, right from the first moment I met you on the train, you made me think of him. I think that's part of the reason why...you know." Dean flapped his hand around inarticulately.

"Thanks, I think," said Remus, unsure whether he should be flattered to be compared to his friend's brother or not, never mind whether he should be relieved that a resemblance to a boy he had never met was the reason Dean hadn't followed through on his hunter's instinct and pumped him full of silver. Suddenly, a horrible thought struck him. "You haven't told anyone, have you? About –"

"About you being a werewolf?" Dean shook his head. "I may not be the smartest tool in the box, but I'm not an idiot. You wouldn't have wanted your secret being broadcast around, any more than I did."

"About that," Remus swallowed, "you know, Lily didn't mean to –"

"I know," interrupted Dean. "I just thought I'd left all that stuff behind in America. Now that the demon that killed my mom's dead, I didn't think I'd have to deal with it again." He sighed. "Coming here was meant to be a new start for us – me, Sammy and Dad. But," he shook his head and scowled. "It was bad enough when Peeves and the ghosts knew, but now everyone knows."

"Just because everyone knows now, it doesn't mean you have to let it take you over," said a voice and the Grey Lady floated in front of them, wearing a sad smile.

Dean started. "How long have you been there?"

"You didn't want everyone to know about you, Dean," said the ghost, ignoring the question. "I understand that. There are things about me that I would hate for people to know."

"What things?" asked Dean.

"But," she continued, "there's more to you than being a hunter. Just like there's more to Remus than being a werewolf." She smiled softly as Remus gasped. "Yes, I know. There's very little the ghosts don't know."

She turned back to Dean and ran a ghostly hand over his head. "Your mother was a wonderful woman, Dean and I can tell you now, she's very proud of you. She may not be here, but she's always watching you and she loves you and your brother very much."

Dean swallowed and blinked hard. "That's what Dad says," he muttered. "Why does it sound like it means more coming from a ghost?"

The Grey Lady smiled, evidently taking his question to be rhetorical, and turned to leave. But before she reached the door, she turned back. "Take care of your father, Dean."

"I will," whispered Dean.

"I know." She gave him another small smile and drifted out of the door.

"Come on," said Remus eventually. "Lily's going to be worried; she'll think you're planning on turning her green or something."

"I'm not mad at her," said Dean, scoffing as he jumped off the table and followed Remus back to Gryffindor Tower. "And if I was, I'm pretty sure I could do something more creative than turning her green."

"Probably," agreed Remus. Halfway down the corridor leading to the common room, he stopped and turned around. "You're sure you're okay?"

"Chimera tails," said Dean in response and the portrait hole swung open to admit them. Taking deep breaths, both boys stepped up and entered the common room. Immediately, silence fell so thick and strong that Remus wondered if anyone else had worked out what he was, because it felt for a minute as though all the eyes were focused on him.

Suddenly, a fourth-year boy stood up and, while pointing at Dean, he spluttered, "So that's a hunter?"

When someone beside him smacked the back of his head, he scowled and turned to them. "What? I've never seen one before."

"Dean!" Lily shot up from her chair and rushed over to him. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to tell..."

"I know." Carefully, Dean moved out of his friend's arms. "It's okay." He turned his gaze onto the boy who'd shouted out. "Yeah, I'm a hunter. But I'm still just as human as you are – _all_ of you." His eyes glanced all around the room, taking in each and every person who was watching him. "It's just a part of me that I try not to revisit unless I have to."

"Because you've done things that you're ashamed of?" asked a girl who had been glaring at him. "Because you're a _killer_?"

"I did what I had to do at the time," said Dean, calmly, though his jaw clenched as he spoke.

"Is it really true that you killed the demon that murdered your mother?" asked Frank, whose eyes, Remus noticed, were wide with admiration.

"I...I had to," stammered Dean. "It would have killed my dad otherwise."

"Wow!" gasped one of the Prewetts. "You're a hero!"

"A hero!" screeched someone else and Remus saw a boy, probably the one who had shouted out when they'd first entered the common room. "That's ridiculous! For all we know him and his dad just rushed across America saying they wanted to find that demon and using it as an excuse to murder people who were different!" He rounded on Dean. "How many witches or wizards have you killed?"

"Only ones who were a threat," said Dean, the sudden hard edge to his voice suddenly making him sound much older. "I have never had any intention of harming anyone who is not a threat, and I never will. Yes, I have blood on my hands and yes, there were innocent people I couldn't save." His eyes flickered with guilt then and Remus's heart ached a little for him. "But who's to say that in the future, none of you will do exactly what I've done? Who's to say you won't kill to save others?"

Silence fell again. Then, James and Sirius stepped up. "There's a war going on," said Sirius. "All of us know about it, some more than others. It may not be tomorrow or the next day, but one day, we could all be in the thick of it, somehow. If you have to kill one person to save several...wouldn't you?"

"I would," said James.

"So would I," said Frank.

"Me too," added Lily.

Remus shuddered, privately thinking that some of them were far too young to be thinking of such a thing, but also knowing enough to know that what Sirius said was true. "So do I," he said.

Dean shifted a little, clearly uncomfortable being in the spotlight. "Is that it then?" he asked. "Good, now, can we please try and get on with our lives while we still can?"

Fabian nodded. "Dean's right. Now, on that note, who wants to lose to me at wizard's chess tonight?"

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><p><em>Thanks for reading and reviews are love! :) Ash xxx PS: I know Dean seemed to take the 'Remus is a werewolf' issue fairly calmly, but I was going on the theory that he's already freaked out about it, plus he knows Bobby trusts Dumbledore and Dean trusts Bobby's judgement, so, y'know, he can trust Dumbledore knows what he's doing. ;)<em>


	10. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

"God damn it, Bobby, I can't believe you've done this! How could you have kept something so important from me? I thought you trusted me!"

Sam jerked upwards from where he had been lying on his bed, staring miserably at the ceiling when he heard his dad's voice. It wasn't the first time John had raised his voice loud enough to carry through the walls and ceilings, but it was the first time in a long time that he had sounded more terrified than furious, almost as though he was on the verge of tears. Abandoning the book he had been reading, Sam swung his legs over the side of the bed and ran his fingers through his hair. A quick glance at the clock on the wall told him that it was almost half past ten at night and he frowned, wondering why John would be calling Bobby when it was so late, and what could be so important that it couldn't wait until a more reasonable hour, or at least until it was morning.

"Yeah, I called you at this hour on purpose!" screeched John suddenly. "I wanted to make sure you'd actually answer and then listen to me instead of churning out that old line about having to go to bed!"

_Oh. _Sam smacked his forehead in annoyance. _There's a time difference. Idiot. _But he didn't have time to feel exasperated with himself, because at that moment, John's voice rang out so loudly that it made the objects on the shelves rattle.

"You let me come here, thinking we'd be safe and you neglected to mention something like _Lord Voldemort_! Yes, Bobby, you'd better bet your ass I'm pissed off! Especially since I ended up finding out about the bastard and his crazy followers from Dean! From my eleven-year-old son who's now terrified that something's going to happen to me or Sammy!"

That got Sam's attention properly and he scrambled to the top of the stairs, hoping to hear better. He didn't know who this 'Lord Voldemort' person was, but anyone who could make John sound so scared could not be good at all. In fact, Sam could only recall one thing in all his life that had ever made his father sound like that.

A horrible thought suddenly came to him and he rushed down the stairs, almost tripping over his too-long pyjama trousers. He paused in the hallway and waitied, but John didn't say anything more after that outburst and a quick glance round the door showed Sam that he had hung up the phone and was now sat at the table with his head buried in his hands as his shoulders trembled. Sam sighed. He had never really seen eye-to-eye with his dad, but he could clearly see now that something was bothering him and that he needed comforting. Since Dean was away at Hogwarts, Sam realised that now he would have to be the one to do something about it.

Nervously, he crossed the floor and rested one hand on John's shoulder, standing on his toes a little to reach. "Are you okay, Dad?" he asked quietly.

John yelped and jumped away in alarm. He looked around wildly, only relaxing when he saw that they were the only people in the room. "What're you doing out of bed, Sammy?" he asked, visibly struggling to keep his emotions from showing on his face.

"I couldn't sleep, and – and then I heard you on the phone, shouting at Uncle Bobby," Sam answered quietly. "Dad, who's Lord Voldemort and why did you sound so scared? Is he," he stopped and lowered his voice, though there was no one else there to hear him, "is he someone who had something to do with what happened to Mom, but we didn't know it at the time?"

"No," John said quickly, shaking his head. "No, he's nothing like that. I almost wish he was, actually, at least then I might have some idea about what to do."

Sam's mouth dropped open. "What _is _he, Dad?" he asked again, although now he wasn't sure he was going to like the answer. Suddenly, he frowned. "Wait, is it someone you pissed off before we came here?" He knew that there was a long list of beings – both human and supernatural – who John had gotten on the wrong side of over the years, and who would be looking to get even with him.

John snorted. "Again, I wish," he said. "Trust me when I say you don't want to know what – or who – this guy is, Sammy. All I can say is that, for now, we're safe and protected here, so try not to worry too much."

Sam wasn't convinced. "But you're worried," he said. "And you said Dean was worried about something happening to us. If we're safe, why's he scared? What's going on, Dad? What do you and Dean know that I don't and what's gotten him so worried?"

John sighed. "Sammy, do you remember when you were old enough to talk, you kept asking Dean and I why we were always moving around and why you didn't have a mom like the other kids did? You remember how Dean always tried to get you to stop asking, because he knew you wouldn't want to know?" Sam nodded. "Well, when you found out, do you remember how you felt?"

"I...I was scared," Sam whispered. "And...and I wished I hadn't known."

"Exactly. And take it from me," John reached out and brushed Sam's unruly bangs off his face, "this Voldemort guy is just as bad as what we've faced, maybe even worse, so..." he sighed. "I just don't want you to have to be scared all your life, Sammy. One day, I know you'll know what's going on, but until then –"

"But, Dad, I'm not a little kid anymore." Sam knew he was whining, but he didn't care. "I'm a part of the wizarding world, just like Dean is; you said so yourself. I know you want me to enjoy life now that we're here, but," he chewed his lip, "isn't it better that I know what's out there so I can be prepared? Isn't that what you always used to say before?"

John closed his eyes, looking pained. "I thought things would be different now," he whispered, though it seemed like he was talking to himself more than to Sam. "I thought we could come here for a new start and...and a chance to have a normal life, just like we wanted. God, if your mother could see us now..." His shoulders slumped and he buried his head in his hands, his breath hitching as he screwed his eyes shut. "I've made such a mess of things."

"Dad..." Sam's stomach twisted when he saw his dad's defeated posture. He reached out, wanting to comfort him, but before he could, something caught his eye and he stepped back. There was a thin trickle of soot falling into the fireplace that had only been used once since they'd come to England, and a small spark of fire glowing in the grate. "Dad?" he said in a very different tone of voice. "What's that?"

"What?" John sat up, wiped his eyes and blinked at the grate, just as the spark exploded into a burst of flame that nearly shot straight out of the grate and onto the carpet. John let out a rather unmanly shriek and jumped up, almost knocking his chair over as he scrambled for a gun. "What the hell, Sam!" he cried, looking half-terrified and half-confused. "What's going on?"

"Dad!" Sam grabbed his wrist. "Dad, calm down! It's okay!" He was scared himself, but he knew only too well where his dad's mind would instantly go at the sight of the fire. He took a deep breath. "Dad," he said, more gently, but still urgently, "Dad, it's okay; it's over, it's all over." He bit his lip slightly, hoping that it was true. "_It's over_," he repeated as emphatically as he could.

John didn't react, but Sam didn't have time to freak out any further, because at that moment, the flames suddenly flared bright green, illuminating the whole room. He covered his eyes and let out a scream as a loud crash echoed around him, closely followed by a curse.

"Ow! That hurt!"

Sam blinked and quickly grabbed the gun from John's unresponsive hand, promptly training it on whoever had just tumbled into their living room. But his hand froze when he recognised a very familiar pair of green eyes staring at him from underneath a head of messy blonde hair. "Christo," he blurted out, unsure whether to be relieved or even more confused when nothing happened.

"I'm not a demon, Sam, or anything else for that matter. It's really me."

Sam frowned. "Dean?" he asked. "What are you doing here?"

"I," Dean scrambled to his feet, dusting soot off his clothes, and winced. "Woah, I stood up too fast." He staggered around, blinking a bit, and swallowed nervously, his face a little green.

Sam gulped and instantly stepped back. "Please don't puke all over me."

"It'd serve you right if I did, after all the times you puked on me when you were a baby," said Dean, scowling at the fireplace. "Stupid Floo powder," he added with a pout.

Sam wanted to ask what Floo powder was, but he didn't because he was a bit too stuck on the fact that his brother was stood right in front of him. "What are you doing here, Dean?" he asked. "Did you get kicked out of the wizard school?"

Dean raised an eyebrow, which actually looked a lot less menacing considering he was still walking on wobbly legs, and he looked more than a little queasy. "Nice to know that's the first thing you think of when you see me, Sam," he said.

"Well, did you?" Sam asked, refusing to be distracted. He loved his brother, but he knew better than most how easily he could get himself into trouble.

"No," said Dean indignantly. "I'm here for something else." He fixed Sam with a pointed look. "Something that...family should be together for. Tomorrow," he added, his gaze becoming slightly harder.

Sam blinked at him in confusion. "Tomorrow? But..." but before he could finish the sentence, he realised. November 2nd. Nine years to the day that... "Oh," he said sheepishly.

"Yeah."

"How...how come I didn't know you were coming?"

"Because I asked Dad not to tell you. I wanted to surprise you." Dean reached over and tapped John's hand. "Dad? It's me. I'm here, Dad."

Sam looked at their dad, who still seemed to be stuck where he was, his face pale as he stared at the fireplace with wide eyes. "I think the fire thing shocked him," he mused aloud.

Dean looked confused for a second, then his eyes widened and he swore under his breath. "Oh, Merlin, I didn't even think of that," he whispered, looking stricken. "I just wanted to get here as quick as I could for you two, and I thought...Floo powder was quickest."

At that moment, John shuddered and blinked, rubbing one hand over his eyes. "What the hell was that?" he asked, gesturing to the fireplace which now seemed to be covering the floor.

"That would have been me," said Dean. "You know, Dad, you knew I was coming; you could've shifted that thing." He flapped his hand at the now broken front of the fireplace, but he didn't sound angry, more amused. Suddenly, he turned really green and ran for his bag, pulling out a small vial of potion which he then swallowed in one gulp, though not without a grimace. "Potion that helps with feeling sick," he explained once he'd stopped cringing. "Dumbledore gave it to me; said it helped with Floo travel. Wish it didn't taste so gross, though," he added with a scowl at the emtpy vial.

"And you just took it without checking what it was?" John shrieked, all signs of shock vanishing at his eldest son apparently doing something that even Sam knew was very stupid. "Damn it, Dean –"

"Come on, Dad." Dean snorted. "You know me better than that. I made completely sure it was what he said it was before I agreed to even carry it."

John opened his mouth to ask something else, but Sam cut in before he could. "Hey, don't I even get a hug?" he pouted, glaring at his brother.

"I don't know, Sammy," said Dean, his brow creasing up in a frown. "What do you think, Dad? Has he missed me enough for that? I mean, it's barely been two months yet."

"I'd say so," said John, his lips twitching a little. "But only just."

"Dean!" Sam whined, pulling out his best possible puppy eyes. He was relieved that his dad hadn't thought to go on about how he'd moped around the house for three solid weeks after Dean had left, and he also knew that it was rather pathetic to be whining like this, but at the same time, he really did just want a hug from his big brother. Besides, he hadn't seen him since the beginning of September; this was the longest time they'd spent apart and he'd missed him!

Sighing, he bit on his bottom lip, allowing it to tremble and blinked up at his brother. "Didn't...didn't you miss me at all?" he asked, letting his voice break a little on the words.

He knew that what he was doing was more than a little devious, but he also knew that this was always the one thing that could make his brother melt. Sure enough, Dean's cocky smirk vanished and stepped forwards, pulling him into a tight hug and ruffling his hair. Sam ignored the slight twinge of guilt as he wrapped his own arms tightly around his brother and closed his eyes. "I missed you," he said.

"Yeah, yeah," said Dean, the slight tremor in his voice betraying his casual words. He patted Sam on the back. "Steady on now, you're cracking my ribs, Sasquatch."

"I'm not that big," Sam grumbled, his words muffled against Dean's neck. "You're just being mean."

"Hmm, I don't know." Dean pulled back and looked at him. "Dad was right in his letters; you've definitely grown an extra few inches. You'll be taller than me pretty soon."

Sam grinned. "Really? I'll be tall like you?"

"Might even be taller than me one day," said John with a soft laugh. "But I think you two should go to bed. Sam, you weren't even meant to be awake at this time and Dean, you look exhausted."

"That's what Floo powder does to you, Dad," said Dean. "Luckily, you'll never have to use it. Lucky for any poor jerk who happens to be at the other end, that is."

Sam laughed, knowing that their dad, for all he could stomach blood and corpses, had a bit of a weak stomach when it came to fast motions. Suddenly, he frowned. "Wait, how did you expect Dean to get here tonight without me noticing in the morning?"

"We didn't," said Dean. "The plan was for me to get here and then Dad would sneak me into our old room and you'd see me tomorrow morning. Unfortunately," he cast a green-eyed glare on John, "someone forgot to sort out the grate, so even if Sam hadn't been awake, there's no way he'd have slept through it." Slowly, he stepped back and rubbed his face. "Ugh, next time I have to travel like that, I am so not doing it on a full stomach."

John laughed. "What did you tell your friends about why you had to leave?" he asked. "From what you've told us in your letters, they're a pretty smart bunch."

"Oh." Dean blushed a little and looked nervous. "I told them the truth. There wasn't any point in not, because they already know about us."

Sam gaped. "You told them?" he almost screeched. "Why?"

"Turned out what happened with our old yellow-eyed friend isn't so secret over here," said Dean with a soft sigh. "Lily found some stuff out in a book she bought and blurted it out to the whole common room. Now, of course, the entire damn school knows." He dropped down on a chair. "Word got around that I was a hunter first, but then...well, now, they all know pretty much everything. Including that it was me who killed that son of a bitch."

Sam glanced sideways at his brother, hearing exactly what wasn't being said. "And I bet not all of them were nice about it, were they?" he asked.

A look of intense pain flashed briefly over Dean's face, but then he set his expression in a calm mask and shrugged. "Yeah, well, doesn't matter now."

"Shit," hissed John, but he didn't sound angry, just completely deflated and Sam knew that he too had understood everything that Dean hadn't said. "God, I...this wasn't what I wanted for you, either of you. It was supposed to be a fresh start for us, a chance to put all that crap behind us once and for all. I didn't want you to have to deal with all this any more, not after everything I made you..." but he broke off, choking on sudden tears.

"Dad, don't," pleaded Dean, reaching out to catch his arm. "Not now. Mom wouldn't want you to."

That was the wrong thing to say, apparently, because John collapsed back into his chair and buried his face in his hands. "Oh, God, Mary..." he gasped. "If you could see us now...I should never, never have put them through all this. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry..."

Sam tugged at Dean's arm as they watched their father break down in front of them. "What do we do now?" he asked. This wasn't a situation he was especially familiar with and his last attempt at comforting him hadn't gone particularly well.

Dean sighed and gently kissed the top of John's head. "Dad, it's not your fault," he said quietly. "What we've done...it saved people. Maybe we...we couldn't save Mom, but we've helped so many others, and that's because of you."

"Don't, Dean," sobbed John, barely even looking up. "Not now. Please, just go to bed, both of you."

"Dad!" Sam protested.

"Go to bed."

Dean stepped back and ran his fingers through his hair. "Come on, Sammy." He grabbed his bag and made his way up the stairs, Sam trailing behind him and trying to close his ears to his dad's gasping sobs.

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><p><em>Some Winchester family bonding there. :P As always, reviews are love and gold dust! :) Ash xxx<em>


	11. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Looking back after the event, Sam realised that it was inevitable that an argument would soon break out between him and his father. Even though they weren't hunting any more, their relationship was still more than just a little fractious. John might be more prepared to talk to them than he would have been had they still been hunting, but he was still prone to fits of melancholy and still kept far too many secrets for Sam's liking. He knew that there were things John couldn't tell him or Dean, and he understood that, mostly. But he hated being kept in the dark, especially when he knew that his father was still being haunted by the memories of his – and of their – past. Still, that didn't mean he had to like it one little bit.

After the previous night, when he and Dean had gotten readiy to go to bed to the sounds of John's anguished sobs, Sam finally made the choice that he was not going to let his father keep quiet when there was clearly so much still bothering him. It wasn't fair to either of them, he told himself, or to Dean, who had come home specially to be with his family, for what was for them a very difficult and important time. Besides, Dean was right, Sam reasoned with himself. Families should be together at times like this and they shouldn't keep having secrets from each other.

Unfortunately, when he entered the kitchen, the first thing he saw was John slumped over the table, his head in his hands and what looked like a half-built ornament shelf beside him. They didn't have many actual ornaments to speak of, obviously, but since they had come to England, John had, at Dean's suggestion, decided to try and find a hobby, eventually starting to either make little knick knacks for the house or taking things apart to try and get them to work better, in a desperate attempt to cut down on his drinking. He'd been getting a little out of control before they had finally killed Azazel and it had often gotten frightening. At first, he had tried focusing all his energy on fixing the cars that were brought into the garage he ran, but that, from what Sam gathered, had taken too much of the fun out of doing his actual job, so he had started something new. Besides, Dean had enough fun with the cars for both of them, he'd added with a laugh.

While neither Sam nor Dean could deny that their father having a hobby was certainly preferable to having a father who was constantly drowning himself in a bottle of beer, Sam wasn't sure this option was that much healthier for him. It was clear to anyone who looked past the end of their nose that his dad was still trying to hide his feelings of guilt and anger that he would barely talk about and they all knew that one day something would have to give. Hopefully, it would be later rather than sooner, but at the moment, that didn't look likely.

When Sam saw the state of the shelves – the wood was splintered where John had hammered the nails in too hard, which was a clear sign of his less than stable mental state – he almost changed his mind about confronting him and went back to bed. But before he could, John looked up and blinked at him and it instantly became obvious that something was wrong. He didn't look like he'd been drinking, but he had dark circles under his eyes and it seemed to take him several more minutes to gather his wits enough to speak.

"Sammy, what're you doing up so early?" he asked, his voice hoarse. "It's still dark."

"Early?" Sam raised an eyebrow and nodded towards the clock. "Dad, it's nearly half past ten. The only reason it's still dark is because the curtains are closed and the light's blown again."

John frowned and looked around. "Oh."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Dad, did you even go to bed last night, or get any sleep at all?"

"I stayed down here last night," said John, avoiding Sam's gaze. "I must have just lost track of time or something. It happens sometimes."

"That's not an answer, Dad." Sam rolled his eyes again; he seemed to have been doing that quite a lot lately. "Tell me." He knew he was being a bit harsh, knew that his dad was hurting, but he refused to let things go this time. He folded his arms and glared sharply at the older man.

John's jaw clenched hard. "Just leave it alone, okay, Sammy," he said firmly. "I just don't need as much sleep as you boys do these days."

Right, and Sam was a fluffy white kitten who could shoot sparkles and rainbows out of his ass. He frowned when he saw John's eyebrows shoot up and he stared at him incredulously, before realising that he had actually said that out loud. _Oops. _Still, he wasn't going to let this go. "You're having nightmares." It wasn't a question. "I know you are."

"Sammy, for God's sake, mind your own business!" shouted John, slamming his fist into the table. "We're not talking about it, especially not now!" He pushed the chair back and pulled some pans out onto the stove before rummaging through the fridge. "Now. What do you want for breakfast?"

Sam's mouth was hanging open in shock and anger. He couldn't believe his dad was just going to brush him off like that, like his wellbeing was nothing to do with him! Maybe he was only nine years old, but he was still a part of the family and surely he had a right to know what was going on. He was about to go up and tell John exactly that when soft footsteps behind him made him turn around, just in time to see Dean walk in, rubbing his eyes and looking almost as tired as his father. He smiled softly at them both. "Hey, Dad, hey, Sammy," he said, giving no sign that he had heard a word of what had just happened between them. "What've we got for breakfast?"

John started before fixing a broad smile on his face. "Well, kiddo, we might not quite have the same selection that you get at Hogwarts, but we've got eggs and bacon!" He tossed a few slices in the pan and cracked some eggs. "You boys used to like smiley faces for breakfast, remember, when you were really little? Remember, Sammy, you used to make ears with your toast as well."

"Dad, I'm not four any more!" protested Sam, blushing scarlet. "And it's not Sammy, it's Sam."

For the first time, John looked a little hurt, but he quickly covered it. "Dean calls you Sammy," he said, his voice forcibly casual even as his hands clenched around the frying pan.

"Dean's allowed to," retorted Sam, desperately trying not to glare at the table too much.

"Why?" asked Dean, raising his eyebrow.

Sam huffed out a laugh. "Because you're my brother, and I love you," he said simply. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw John flinch away slightly, but he said nothing. It wasn't that he wanted to hurt his dad – he didn't – but he was angry with him for shutting them out all the time.

Dean frowned at him, his mouth open slightly, but before he could say anything, John came to the table with three plates of egg and bacon. Sam wanted to scowl and sulk for a bit, but the smell of the bacon was making his mouth water too much, so, despite himself, he grabbed one of the plates and started eating. He had to, grudgingly at the moment, admit that his father's cooking had certainly improved since they had come to England, though he knew that was probably due to his brother's help more than John's actual ability with an oven or a stove.

"So, Dean, tell us about the Hallowe'en ball the other night," said John in a would-be casual voice. "From what I gathered from your letters, it was quite a night."

"It was!" laughed Dean. "We – actually, I shouldn't say what we did."

"Oh, please," snorted John. "I've been around you two for far too long to even think that you didn't do anything you shouldn't have. Just tell me you didn't get caught."

"Please." Dean rolled his eyes. "You've taught us better than that."

_Probably one of the only things he has taught us well, _Sam thought, but this time he decided to keep his remarks to himself; he wanted to know more about what his brother had been up to more than he wanted to argue with John. At first, when he listened to Dean's stories, he was a little disappointed to hear that, along with his friends, he hadn't really done anything they couldn't have done themselves. He knew perfectly well that Dean was far cleverer than that. But after a while, when he thought about it, he realised that their technique had been pretty effective; they'd kept things simple, but effective.

"And the best part," chuckled Dean, "was that we got away with it, because they were things that anyone could've done. James wasn't sure at first, because he wanted us to do something fancy and..." he waved his hand as if he was casting a spell, "magic, I guess, but, hey, don't write off Muggle methods, especially when it comes to stuff like this!"

"I bet Dumbledore knew you guys were behind it though," chuckled Sam.

"Probably," admitted Dean sheepishly. "But he was probably enjoying himself too much to grass us up. In fact," and he dropped his voice, "I heard that he played a little prank or two himself on the night of the Hallowe'en Feast. I think it was the toffee apples that turned everyone's robes rainbow-coloured myself."

"You mean you and your friends didn't do anything on the night of the Feast?" asked John while Sam laughed.

"Nope," said Dean. "Fabian, Gideon and Frank did something that night, but they never told us what it was. But I'll tell you one thing, whatever it was, it was damn good!" His grin suddenly got a little smug. "But we did better. You know why?"

"Because you didn't get caught?" asked Sam, grinning back.

"Yep." Dean bumped fists with Sam playfully and then grimaced. "Ew, you've got egg on your hand, Sammy."

"Sounds like you've had quite an eventful few days, Dean," said John once he'd managed to stop chuckling. "Still, I hope you're spending enough time on your schoolwork and not getting into too much trouble."

"You'd know if I was getting into trouble, Dad," said Dean with a shrug. "McGonagall's might have a sense of humour, but she's not one for letting you get away with breaking rules too many times. James and Sirius can tell you that for damn sure." He turned to Sam and ruffled his hair. "And just think, this time in two years, you'll be at Hogwarts with me and we can cause even more chaos."

"Oh dear, how will the place survive?" asked John, throwing his hands in the air. "Seriously, Dean, I'm glad you're making friends. I worried about you back home; you seemed so cut off sometimes."

"Yeah, well, I just realised you and Sammy wouldn't want me to be lonely," mumbled Dean, staring at his plate. "And...and neither would Mom."

At that moment, Sam suddenly remembered why Dean was here instead of at Hogwarts in the first place and he felt a pang of guilt. He suddenly remembered how tired his brother had looked when he'd entered the kitchen and winced a little when he realised he'd been so focused on arguing with John that he hadn't even considered how Dean might be feeling. Dean didn't like to talk about the night their mother had died and Sam wasn't sure how much of it he remembered, but looking at him now he could tell that he was still suffering from what had happened.

Slowly, he got up from the table and wound his arms tightly round Dean's shoulders, patting his hair and laughing a little when Dean nearly choked on his bacon in surprise. "You're never going to be alone," he said, remembering what Dean used to do when he was really little and got scared or upset by something. "You've got me forever, Deanie, just like I've got you."

Dean blushed and scowled. "Don't call me Deanie," he snapped, trying to wriggle out of the hug.

"You didn't mind me calling you that when we were little," pouted Sam. "And you get to call me Sammy, so I should get to call you that." He tilted his head and, for the second time in as many days, fixed his brother with his very best puppy eyes. "Please?"

"Oh, for God's – fine!" huffed Dean. "But no one else gets to call me that and if you tell anyone about this, I will kick your ass. That includes you, Dad."

"Fine." John held up his hands, clearly trying to look frustrated while trying not to laugh.

Sam nodded. "Deal, but the same applies if I find out you told anyone to call me Sammy."

Dean burst out laughing and stood up, picking Sam up, swinging him around as he squealed. "Yeah, whatever, Sammy," he said but there was unmistakable affection in his voice. "Like you could ever really manage to kick my ass, Squirt."

"Squirt?" asked John, raising an eyebrow. "Wasn't he Sasquatch last night?"

"He might have grown a bit, but he'll always be my little brother, Dad," said Dean, shrugging. "So, yes, to me he'll always be Squirt."

"Yeah, and you'll always be a jerk," retorted Sam, though he wasn't really angry and he knew it showed.

"True," said Dean. "But I'll always be your jerk. And we'll always have each other, no matter what, right?" He glanced up at John. "Right?"

John swallowed and nodded. "Yeah," he choked out, coming round to wrap his arms around both of them. "Yeah, we'll always have each other."

* * *

><p>The mood throughout the day was strange, to say the least. While Sam was undeniably happy to have Dean with them – and he knew John was as well – none of them could ignore why they were together and that was putting a dampner on the whole mood. John had tried to carry on as normal and go to work at the garage, but it was clear that he wasn't his usual self at all. He didn't whistle or sing as he worked and he seemed a little lost, and while Sam never thought he'd see the day when he wished his dad would sing those stupid songs, he found the overwhelming silence rather depressing.<p>

Even worse, Dean seemed to have reverted to the quiet boy he'd often been back in America. Sometimes he'd try to make a joke or do something funny, but his heart obviously wasn't in it any more than John's heart was in his work. He also kept looking at Sam as though he was expecting him to disappear into thin air, and would always make sure he was in sight of him. Sam wanted to be flattered by the attention – he'd missed his brother desperately after all – but he just found it extremely unsettling and it grated on him a little, because it seemed like he was back to being a helpless toddler, like Dean didn't trust him out of his sight. He was acting the same with John, constantly looking over his shoulder at him, as though he wanted to go to him and help him, but knowing that his dad would never admit it. Even more unusual was when Sam saw him trying to fix the engine of a nearly decrepit old car, he noticed that Dean seemed unfocused and uncertain about what he was doing, even trying to insert something into the wrong place three times, when he could normally, even at eleven, have managed to do it right in his sleep.

"I'm just a little tired," said Dean when Sam asked him if he was all right. "Didn't sleep much last night."

"Oh." Sam bit his lip. "You want to talk about it?"

Dean shrugged. "Not much to say, really." He wiped his oil-covered hands on a rag. "Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"How have you and Dad been since I've been away?" His voice was casual, but his eyes were full of concern. "I know you said things were fine in your letters, but...really? Are you both all right?"

"We're both fine." John appeared and dropped down beside them. "I mean, we miss you like crazy, kiddo, but we've been getting by." He cocked his head to the side. "Why do you ask?"

"Just wondered." Dean shrugged. "I mean, we're still family even though you're here and I'm there, right?"

John gasped. "Of course we are, Dean!" he exclaimed, pulling both boys into a hug, even as he started babbling rather wildly. "Jesus, we're always going to be a family; nothing could ever change that! You're my boys and I'm so proud of you and I love you both so much."

"Yeah," murmured Sam. "Even if you don't trust us enough to be honest with us."

He hadn't meant to say that out loud and he could feel the atmosphere darken immediately. John closed his eyes and let out a groan. "Sam..."

"What? It's been the elephant in the room since I came down and saw you this morning, Dad. I let it go before, but you can't keep hiding from us."

"Come on, Sam," said John tiredly, "let's not do this today, okay?"

"If not today, then when?" Sam retorted, his voice rising a little. "I love you, Dad. We both love you. But you can't keep shutting us out all the time. There's no need for it any more!"

"Sam," interrupted Dean, "leave it for now, okay? Dad's right; today isn't the day for it. We're family; we need each other now."

"Family should be there for each other and that includes Dad letting us be there for him," Sam grumbled.

"I'm just trying to look after you two," said John quietly. "I want to do a better job of it than I did back home."

"Be hard to do a much worse job," muttered Sam sullenly.

John flinched hard, but his eyes were snapping with anger. "I know I screwed up," he said, "God, I know I did. But at least now I've got a chance to start to make things right! Don't keep having a go at me for past mistakes, Sam; it's not as if it's what I wanted for us!"

"It didn't stop you –"

"Stop it." Dean's voice cut across Sam. "Seriously, now isn't the time. If you really want to argue it out tomorrow after I've gone back, fine. But right now, we're together for a reason and we need each other. So, can you just drop it before you end up arguing over something really stupid like why the sky's blue." He looked both of them in the eye. "Please," he said quietly. "Don't do this. Not today. Mom," he stopped and took a deep breath, his voice dropping even more, "she wouldn't want this."

The anger in John's face instantly vanished and his eyes, once again, started to shimmer with tears. "No," he whispered, trying and failing to blink them away. "You're right, Dean. She wouldn't want it and if she was here, she'd tell us that herself."

"Good job I'm here to do it then, huh?" said Dean with a wry smile.

Sam sighed. "I'm sorry, Dean." He still wished John would just open up a bit more, but he knew he shouldn't have pushed like he had, even if he couldn't actually admit it. "I just wish I could remember her, you know? I mean, you and Dad keep saying how amazing she was and I wish I could've known her."

"She was amazing," whispered John, dragging one hand over his eyes. "I know it's a cliché, but it's true. She was beautiful and brave and, frankly, she scared the hell out of me sometimes. But she was also one of the kindest and sweetest women I've ever known."

"Isn't that the kind of thing you have to say about your wife?" asked Sam, his lips twitching.

John laughed, thankfully taking the comment in the joking way it had been intended. "That's true, Sam, that's very true. But it might surprise you to hear that we didn't exactly get along at first."

"You didn't?" Dean looked startled. "Why not?"

"That habit of pissing people off as soon as you looked at them something you've always had then?" asked Sam with a chuckle.

"Pretty much," said John with a sigh. "Nah, it was just that we were so different, I guess. She was always the one who wanted to help people –"

"And you were always the one to get them and yourself into trouble," finished Dean.

"Something like that. I think she thought I was a crazy troublemaker and I thought she stuck to the rules too much or something. I probably didn't help things by staring at her for hours on end once I'd pulled my head out of my ass enough to realise that she was probably the most gorgeous woman I'd ever seen."

"So what changed?" asked Sam.

"I managed to get myself hit by a car one night and ended up in hospital with cracked ribs and a broken wrist for ages." John's face took on a distant dreamy look. "Apparently, she was walking down the road when it happened and she recognised me and took me to the hospital. Imagine my surprise when I woke up and found her sat at my bedside reading a book. Turned out she didn't hate me enough to leave me alone in that place." He sighed. "That was when I realised that she had such an amazing capacity to care and, I was lucky enough to learn later, to love."

A peaceful silence followed John's story as the trio stared out at the slowly darkening sky. Then Dean smiled. "I bet she's watching us now, Dad," he murmured. "And I bet she's proud of us, of all of us."

"Even me?" asked Sam.

"Of course even you, Sammy," answered Dean without hesitation. "You're her little boy, but more than that, you're smart and adorable and you're a fighter." He gave Sam a broad smile. "That makes you awesome. My awesome little brother."

"It's true, Sammy," said John. "I know we've got...issues, but Dean's right. She'd be so proud of you, kiddo."

"You don't," Sam bit his lip before he finally voiced something that had been bothering him for years, "you don't think she'd blame me for what happened to her?"

"No!" John and Dean shouted at the same time, Dean's eyes growing larger and rounder by the second.

"Why would you think that, Sammy?" asked John.

"Because it was my crib that the demon killed her at," mumbled Sam, his cheeks heating up. "I mean, that thing was after me."

"Even if that's true, it doesn't make it your fault," insisted John. "It was nobody's fault; just that bastard demon out to get his kicks and we were the ones who paid for it. That monster was the only one to blame."

"Yeah," said Dean. "At least now it's dead and it won't hurt anyone else the way it hurt us." He smiled softly. "But you know what's most important? That we're here and we've got each other."

"Yeah." John smiled softly. "You're right, Dean. We're together and that's what matters."

* * *

><p>"Hey, Dean?"<p>

"Mmm?" Dean looked up from where he was finishing some homework. "What is it, Sammy?"

"Did," Sam picked at the blanket he was huddled under, "did you mean what you said earlier? That Mom would be proud of me?"

Dean looked up in shock. "'Course I meant it, silly! Like I said, you're awesome. Anyone who can't see that seriously needs their brains examining."

Sam couldn't help but laugh at that. "And I guess you'd happily be the one to do it, huh?"

"You'd better bet your ass I would." Dean shoved his parchments away and scrambled onto Sam's bed, wrapping an arm around him. "And you know why you're awesome?"

"Because I've got you looking out for me?"

"Damn right you have. Your incredibly amazing and wonderful big brother."

Sam punched his brother's arm playfully. "Jerk."

"Shut up," snorted Dean. "But seriously, Sammy, you're not just awesome 'cos you've got me. You're awesome 'cos you're you. Just the way you are."

A broad smile found its way over Sam's face at Dean's words. That had to be one of the nicest things anyone had ever said to him. "Thanks, Dean," he whispered, resting his head on his brother's shoulder. "But if I tell anyone you said that, you'll deny all knowledge, right?"

"Nah." Dean shrugged. "Not this time. I like people knowing I've got an amazing little brother. He might be a pain in the ass at times, but you know what? He's _my _pain in the ass."

Sam laughed. "You know, I said that I wished I'd had the chance to get to know Mom better, but maybe I did know her better than I thought. When Dad was talking about her, saying how she wanted to help people and all that, I just," he shrugged, trying to find the words.

But Dean nodded. "Thanks, Sammy."

"Dad sees it too, you know. He keeps saying to me that you're more like her than you know."

"Yeah." This time, Dean's smile was sad and a little tense. "I know."

Sam sighed and stared miserably down at his blanket. "I wish you didn't have to leave tomorrow," he mumbled. "I'm gonna miss you."

"Hey, come on," said Dean, shaking him gently. "Don't be like that. I'm gonna write to you and everything."

"It's not the same."

"No." Dean let out a soft breath. "No, it's not. But look at it this way; this time in two years, you'll be at Hogwarts with me and we'll be back to causing mischief together, yeah?"

"Yeah, I guess so."

Dean yawned slightly. "Come on, let's get some sleep, okay?" He started to get up and pull away, but Sam grabbed his arm and stopped him. "You want me to stay? I thought you were too old for that."

Sam shook his head. "Just for tonight? Please?" He didn't wait for an answer; instead, he just pulled Dean back under the blanket and gripped at his shirt.

"Okay, okay," muttered Dean, but he sounded too tired to make much of a protest. "Go to sleep, Sammy."

"'Kay." Sam yawned and snuggled against his brother. "Night, Deanie."

"Night, Sammy."

* * *

><p><em>Just some brotherly schmoop there for Sam and Dean - hey, they miss each other, clearly! :P As always, thanks for reading and reviews are love :) Ash xxx<em>


	12. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

"So, the Seeker who catches the Snitch gets a hundred and fifty points for his or her team." James clapped his hands together. "And that's when the game ends. But trust me, it's more awesome when you see it live."

"Right." Dean nodded, though James thought he looked very unconvinced. "And you felt the need to explain it to me with stick figures...why?"

"Because it just makes it easier to understand if you've never heard of something like this before," answered James. "And my stick figures are really awesome."

"I'm American and Muggleborn, James, not stupid," said Dean rather indignantly. "But I only found out that this sort of thing," he waved his arm around the common room, "existed a few years ago. And also," he added almost as an afterthought,"your stick men look like they're about to be abducted by the stupid police."

"But you're a hunter," said James, deciding to ignore the insult to his drawing abilities. "You've known what magic is for years, haven't you?"

"Yeah, but not like this," said Dean. "Not like you go to school and play sports and all this...I dunno, all this normal stuff."

"What did you expect, dead rabbits bleeding from the ceilings?" snorted James, but one look at Dean's faceand he realised that, actually, Dean had expected something not too different to that. "Look, there are some nutters out there who definitely do stuff like that on a regular basis. But right now?" He jumped to his feet and slapped his hand on the table. "We're not going to think about anything except for our Gryffindor lions beating those slimy snakes!"

Dean stared at him. "Yeah. Sure. James, seriously, it's only a frickin' game. What's the big deal, really?"

Lily, who had been engrossed in an essay until a few minutes ago, rolled her eyes. "Ignore him, Dean. He's just using Quidditch as an excuse to try and get one over the Slytherins, just because he doesn't like Severus. It's pathetic."

"But you're not even playing, James," said Dean, frowning. "Neither's Sev. So, seriously, why is this such a big deal?"

James spluttered in shock for a few sconds, but before he could muster up a reply, Sirius stepped in with "Think of it like your local sports team back home beating their greatest rivals. You'd want them to win more than anything, right? I mean, you guys are nothing if not serious about winning at stuff like that, aren't you?"

Dean shrugged. "I dunno," he said. "I was a little too busy to worry about the popularity of sport in America. You know, with the whole 'trying to keep my family safe and trying not to get killed on a daily basis' thing."

"Okay," said James, throwing his hands in the air, "let me put it in terms you can understand. Say...okay, say Sam was playing in a team and on another team was a kid who bullied him really badly and hurt him to the point where Sam stopped playing, and the other players egged him on and stuff. Then, the teams meet again; neither Sam nor the other kid are playing. The rest of that team are. Who do _you _want to win?"

Sirius stared at them. "James, that's the most stupid thing I've ever heard. What is anyone supposed to get from that, except from you being crazy?"

"Sammy's team," said Dean automatically. "Because then they can win it for Sammy and show those assholes who picked on him that no one messes with my little brother."

"Exactly," said James. "That's how I feel about this match." He looked up when he heard Lily tutting. "Hey, I never said I wasn't using Quidditch to get one over Snivelly Snape and his Slytherin friends, Evans."

"How very generous and honest of you, Potter," snorted Lily.

"Hey, just because you hate Quidditch doesn't mean the rest of us have to," retorted James, folding his arms and glaring at her. "You just don't understand, that's all."

Lily blinked at him. "I don't hate Quidditch," she said evenly. "I'm actually looking forward to seeing the match tomorrow, but it does sound so dangerous. I've been reading _Quidditch Through the Ages_ and there are –"

"You can't get the feel of Quidditch from a book!" cried Sirius, looking aghast. "You need to be there and really see it!"

"Yeah!" said James. "You can't get everything from a book!"

"I know." Lily glared at him. "I just wanted to get an idea of the history of it. And, as I said, I'm looking forward to seeing the match. But I'll be cheering for Gryffindor for house pride, not to try and get one over someone who's not even playing."

James frowned. "Did I say any of it wasn't about house pride?"

"You didn't say it was," pointed out Remus.

"Well it is. I'm saying so now."

Dean groaned. "Are all pureblood families completely crazy?"

"Yes." Gideon laughed. "Just some are more crazy than others." He turned to look at Sirius. "No offence."

Sirius laughed. "None taken."

"Personally, I blame the inbreeding," piped up Frank. "Nothing good _ever _comes from that much incest."

James laughed, but Dean looked a little confused. "I thought you said all the pureblood families were inter-related," he said to Sirius.

"They are," said Sirius. "I mean, if you're only going to allow your children to marry other purebloods, then there's not much of a choice. But the Blacks tend to take it to another level. The 'practically marrying your brother or sister to keep the bloodline pure' kind of level. And, in some cases, definitely marrying your first cousins."

"Eww!" Dean wrinkled his nose in disgust. "Gross!"

"They say the Black family has insanity in its genes," said a third-year girl who none of them knew very well, but who had been watching Sirius with disdain. "Now we all know why."

Sirius nodded. "I suppose we do. But," he added as an afterthought, "I think we also know that I am not your average Black. I'm here and loving it, for a start. And, believe me, I have no intention of marrying any of my relatives, especially not my cousins. Andy's already married, 'Cissy's completely gone for Lucy Malfoy, and frankly," he grimaced a little, "Bellatrix sort of terrifies me."

James nodded. From what he'd heard about Bellatrix Black – soon to be Lestrange, if the rumours were true – he wasn't surprised his friend was scared of her. "She's rumoured to be more psycho than all the people in Azkaban put together," he whispered to Dean, grinning widely at him.

That statement, while it left Sirius, Remus and Peter looking chilled, didn't have the full reaction he was hoping for, though. "What's Azkaban?" asked Dean, frowning.

"It's the wizard's prison," said James. "Out on this tiny little island, you're all alone. Once you go in there...there's no coming out. You're stuck there."

Dean tilted his head. "Come on, James, I killed a demon when I was seven," he said. "Which part of that is supposed to scare me?"

"Maybe the part where if the Ministry of Magic thinks you're bad enough, if you did anything wrong, even by accident, you could get sent there at the drop of a hat and be left with Dementors for company?" asked James. "Trust me, Dean, it's not where it is that makes Azkaban horrible. It's those guards. You'll be driven mad there, no happiness, no laughter...no love." He smirked slightly as Dean's face paled and leaned a little closer to him. "Oh, yeah. The Dementors will take every last good memory you have inside of you, little by little, breaking you down, until all you're left with are the worst times of your life replaying in your head over and over again until you end up going mad."

"Stop it!" shouted Lily, getting up and pushing James away. "Can't you see you're scaring him?" She reached out and pulled Dean into a hug. "Ignore him, Dean. He's just being a jerk."

"But I've done bad things!" protested Dean, who looked very upset. "I've killed –"

"That's all in the past," insisted Lily. "You did then what you had to do. You did it to help innocent people who would've died otherwise. That doesn't make you a criminal."

"What about the magic?" whispered Dean as though he was scared someone from the Ministry of Magic might pop out from underneath the chairs. "I did magic by accident before I came here; I blew up my birthday cake when I was eight and...and –"

"You don't get sent to prison for that!" gasped Lily, visibly holding the scared blonde boy tighter. "Especially not when you're a kid. They don't punish you for what you do before you come to Hogwarts, because you can't control it then." She smiled softly. "Sev told me."

James scowled when he heard that. Typical Snape, sticking his greasy head in where it didn't belong. He knew Lily had been his friend before Hogwarts and that, somehow, Dean had struck up a rapport with him on the train, but he had no idea what they both saw in him. He wanted to huff and ask exactly what Snape thought he knew about it all, even though he knew that the Slytherin boy was right. But he couldn't bring himself to do it, even as a prank, when he saw the scared look on Dean's face. He might not understand the boy, but they were Marauders as well as Gryffindors, and they looked out for their own.

Slowly, Dean untangled himself from Lily's grasp, looking a little embarrassed. "I think I'm er, going to go to bed," he whispered. "Want to be awake and alert for the match tomorrow, remember?" He gave James a half-smile and gathered up his books. "Night."

Once Dean had left, Lily hit James hard on the shoulder. "What did you go and scare him like that for?" she hissed. "I thought you were his friend!"

"I didn't mean to scare him that much!" said James defensively. He looked around at the others in the room, but none of them seemed willing to look back at him. "It was just a joke!"

"Pretty stupid joke, if you ask me," said Remus. "You knew how badly it would upset him."

"Or if you didn't, you're even more insensitive than I thought," snapped Lily.

"But he's a hunter!" insisted James. "He's seen scary stuff before!"

"Yeah, and think about what the Dementors would do with that," said Sirius quietly.

"What've –" but James cut himself off when he realised the answer. Hadn't he been the one to tell Dean that the Azkaban guards would destroy your happy thoughts and memories, leaving you with nothing but the worst times of your life? "Oh," he whispered, feeling a little sick. Even now, at only eleven years old, Dean probably had more horrible memories than their entire year put together.

Sirius nodded. "Exactly."

"Well...why didn't you _stop _me?!" yelped James.

"He shouldn't have had to." Lily wasn't shouting any more, but her voice was as cold, sending shivers up James' spine. "You just didn't think. As usual."

"Yeah, okay." James sighed; while he, of course, liked pranks and jokes, he knew he'd overdone it this time and he'd hurt his friend. "I'd better finish my homework; I don't want to miss the match."

"James Potter!" Alice Colton and Niamh Kennedy exclaimed in unison, both looking shocked.

"What?" asked James. "Come on, Dean's not going to talk to me yet; I might as well spend my time doing something useful." He grabbed his Transfiguration essay. "Night."

The next morning dawned a little cloudy and cold, but there was no sign of rain and the whole school was bubbling with excitement in anticipation of the match. Even the teachers seemed to be caught up in the mood with Professors McGonagall and Slughorn both talking animatedly and excitedly to their house teams, though several Gryffindors looked rather surprised to see the stern Transfiguration professor in such a state.

"Apparently, McGonagall really loves Quidditch," Frank whispered over his bacon. "She talks about fair play and equality and stuff like that, but Fabian and Gideon say all that goes out of the window when it comes to Quidditch and she's Gryffindor to the core."

"And so she should be!" James nodded his approval. "Clearly, Slughorn is Slytherin to his core too, though," he added. It was a shame, really, because he did genuinely like the Potions Master. He might not be the most traditional of teachers, but he was approachable and friendly and treated all his students well during lessons, even if everyone knew that he did have his favourites outside of the classroom.

"So...who're the favourites for today's match?" asked Lily, trying to sound as though she didn't really care all that much, but James could see the anticipation in her face.

"Well, Gryffindor have a strong team, of course," said Remus thoughtfully. "But from what I hear, the Slytherins have an unbeaten record stretching back for...two years, is it, James?"

"Three," muttered James, not at all happy about this record. "But that's going to change next year if it doens't today!"

"How can you be so sure?" asked Sirius, frowning.

"Because," said James, "next year, I'm going to try out for Chaser and this time, I'll get in!" He threw his wand in the air and let it emit red and gold sparks, showering the entire Gryffindor table. Everyone stared and applauded – including Lily, though she still looked a little annoyed – and even Professor McGonagall offered him a smile while Dumbledore chuckled from the staff table.

Dean chuckled. "You really like your Quidditch, huh?"

"You think?" chuckled Frank. "He'd probably set up camp on the Quidditch pitch if he could."

James overheard. "Quidditch camp..." he sighed dreamily. "That would be so..._excellent_." He dimly heard Lily groan at Frank, but he ignored her. The thought of a summer camp for playing Quidditch was filling him with warmth. He could almost see it now, crowds of people, both young and old, clamouring for him to show him his skills and tricks, all of them calling his name and cheering while his family and friends clapped and squealed for him...

"James? James!" Sirius's voice cut through his musings.

"Huh?"

"Come on!" Sirius whacked him on the shoulder. "The match is starting shortly!"

"The match?" James forced himself out of his fantasy and blinked a little when he saw everyone leaving the Great Hall. "Oh! The match!"

"Yes, James." This time, it was Dean speaking and he sounded far too amused for his own good. "The match that you've been going on about for the last week, at least?" He shook his head. "Where the hell were you?"

"Somewhere amazing," grinned James, though he felt a bit sheepish. "Doesn't matter now. Come on, let's go, or we won't get good seats!"

"You know, I thought the Prewett twins were good last year as Beaters," remarked Frank who, like James, was barely able to take his eyes off the match. "But this year they're even better."

"Yeah, I heard they were amazing last year," said James, cheering along with the other Gryffindors as one of the Chasers bunted the Quaffle through the Slytherin goalposts, finally bringing Gryfindor into the lead with sixty points to Slytherin's fifty. "Wow! We're awesome! How did we end up losing to these snakes for three years in a row?"

"Perhaps someone cursed the Gryffindor team," mused Dean. "You know, like how everyone says the Defence Against the Dark Arts job's jinxed, only this time, someone figured out a way to fix it."

James sighed, annoyed that he hadn't thought of that himself. "Why are curses the first thing you think of?" he asked. "I'm starting to think you're never happy without something being cursed."

"Oh, I dunno," said Dean in a mock thoughtful voice. "Maybe it's because I'm a hunter and I've been taught pretty much from the get-go to think things like that?"

"He's got a point there, James," laughed Sirius, but then his mouth dropped open as he watched their Seeker, Luke Tucker, start to slowly rise to his feet, one arm outstretched towards a tiny speck of gold just out of his reach – the Golden Snitch! Even Lily, who hadn't appeared too impressed by most of the match so far – probably too violent for her tastes, thought James – was almost on her feet, her knuckles turning white as she tracked the Seeker's progress through the air. He was gaining on the Snitch, so close James could almost taste the scent of victory in the air. He gasped as Luke's hand curved, just about to grasp his prize...

Then, suddenly, an almighty groan echoed around the stadium as one of the Slytherin Beaters had cracked her – for it was a rather burly seventh-year girl – bat at one of the Bludgers and sent it right towards Luke. Unfortunately, the Gryffindor Seeker had been so focused on the Snitch that he didn't see it until it was too late, and the heavy black ball smashed straight in between his legs, causing him to lose his balance and lurch sideways off his broom until he was hanging on with one hand and the other hand was grasping at the injured area, his face contorted with pain.

"Ouch..." moaned Dean, wincing. "That's gonna _hurt _in the morning."

James nodded, his eyes watering in sympathy with Luke. "Yeah. Don't think he's going to be having children any time soon." He frowned when he heard giggling and turned towards the Slytherin section of the stadium where he could see the spectators laughing and jeering – along with most of the Slytherin players – at the injured Seeker. Enraged, James leapt to his feet and shook his fist in their direction. "Shut up!" he shouted. "It's not funny!"

"James, I don't think they're listening," said Remus.

"But they're being jerks!" shouted James.

"I know." This time it was Lily who spoke up and she looked at him sympathetically, which surprised James a little. "I'm actually with you on this, Potter, but it won't do any good if they can't hear you. Leave it to the team to do the talking on the pitch. If they win..." she trailed off and turned back to the game.

Sirius let out a scream. "James, look!"

James looked up and gasped in shock. Despite barely being able to mount his broom, Luke was still focused on the Snitch, which was now floating up near the Slytherin goalpost. His face was creased up in pain, but he was still intent on catching up with the tiny gold ball and, even more amazing, the Slytherin Seeker, who was up at the other end of the pitch, had not yet seen it, despite the heckling from the Slytherins in the crowd. At the same time, Gryffindor Chaser Abby Danvers, who had earlier sent her housemates into raptures with some excellent shots and passes, had frozen in the middle of the pitch, her gaze focused on Luke, and had dropped the Quaffle where it was caught by a Slytherin chaser who put in through the Gryffindor goalposts with ease, not once, but twice. But none of the Gryffindors, not even James, reacted; they were all too focused on their Seeker's efforts to keep up with the Snitch all the while visibly cringing as he struggled to find a comfortable seat on his broomstick.

It was at that point that the Slytherin Seeker, a scrawny fifth year whose name James didn't know, seemed to notice the tense silence that had enveloped the stadium and he looked around, his mouth dropping open when he spotted Luke at the other end of the pitch. Immediately, he grabbed his own broomstick and started racing across to catch up to him. James felt his stomach lurch as he realised that the other boy was an exceptional flier and even on a visibly old broom, he caught up to Luke in less than a minute and instantly started trying to shove him further off balance until, once again, the Gryffindor Seeker was having to cling onto the wood with one hand.

"Is that even legal?" whispered Dean, his face pale, as Luke was nearly run through by the other Seeker ploughing into his stomach.

"Borderline," said Sirius, who looked grim. "But one thing is for sure, the Slytherins will always fight as dirty as they can get away with and if that means incapacitating an opposing player, they'll do it."

"Yeah, but Luke has more guts than the entire Slytherin Quidditch team put together," said Frank. "Last year, he caught the Snitch with three broken bones in his right arm and a concussion. We still lost the match, but not as badly as we could have thanks to him."

James was about to say something about how he wished he'd been there for that, but before he could, the Slytherin Seeker, who had been lurking out of the way for a while, nosedived sharply, hitting the middle of Luke's broomstick hard with his own, causing him to shoot off course. Luke, however, barely flinched and jumped back up, grabbing the Snitch out of thin air as he did so. He nearly fell right over the top of his broomstick, but managed to grab onto the tail just long enough to guide himself to the ground and collapse onto the soft grass, his clenched fist outstretched.

Dean stared. "Did...did that just happen?"

"It...it did," said Sirius slowly. "Hey, does that mean we won the match?"

His question was instantly answered as the commentator called out, "For the last three years, despite Luke Tucker's heroics, Gryffindor have always been beaten by Slytherin. But not today as the Gryffindor Seeker produces one of the most heroic catches I've seen in my years at Hogwarts and brings his team to a glorious win – two hundred points to seventy! Gryffindor win!"

"YES!" James threw his scarf in the air and jumped up, screaming and cheering. He could see Remus, Dean, Frank and even Lily doing the same beside him, all of them flushed with excitement and elation. He smothered a laugh when he saw the Slytherins looking horrified and their Seeker, frankly, looking terrified, though he couldn't really blame him; he had just cost them their unbeaten record against Gryffindor, after all. Still, James couldn't feel too sorry for him, for one thing, he was a Slytherin, so he was probably a git, and for another thing, their loss was Gryffindor's gain.

"Come on!" Fabian Prewett was flying above their heads, his brother beside him. "Time for –"

"A party!" continued Gideon. "Gryffindor common room, now!" He smacked his Beater's bat against his brother's and they flew back to their team, where Luke was being carried on the shoulders of the three Chasers and the Keeper.

James sighed. "One day, that'll be me," he said. "Maybe not as a Seeker, but I'll be the one on their shoulders one day."

"I don't doubt it." Remus gave him a small smile. "But can you try and not show off so much about it? You don't want to disappoint anyone's expectations, do you?"

"Hey, I can't help being brilliant!" laughed James. "Come on – it's party time!"


	13. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

James' joy at Gryffindor finally beating Slytherin lasted well over a week after the match itself had actually taken place. He might have felt slightly awkward about this eventually, were it not for the fact that most of the rest of Gryffindor house – including Professor McGonagall – seemed to be feeling exactly the same way. In fact, if the rumours were to be believed, she had barely been able to stop herself from smirking whenever she saw Professor Slughorn in the corridors. The Potions Master, for his part, took it all in good humour, even when he was nearly knocked out by a group of still celebrating Gryffindors.

The Quidditch team, needless to say, were all being treated like royalty by their hero-worshipping housemates. In particular, Luke Tucker and the Prewett twins could barely go anywhere without their self-proclaimed 'guard of honour', much to the amusement of the rest of the school. However, while Gideon and Fabian were more than happy with this turn of events, Luke would almost go out of his way to avoid his adoring public. It was as if all the confidence he showed on his broomstick simply melted away once he was back on the ground. James didn't really get it; Luke was a popular boy with lots of kids from each year and each house – even a very few grudging Slytherins – desperate to get to know him, but he never seemed to want to hang around with the large groups, especially when they complimented him endlessly on his Quidditch skills. James himself had noticed this when he had done the same thing; Luke had turned bright red and rushed off, muttering something about finishing a late History of Magic essay.

"It's like he doesn't want to tell anyone he's good at Quidditch," he said one morning in the library over homework.

Sirius snorted. "As if we could have missed that."

"Exactly!" shouted James, ignoring Lily glaring at him from across the room. "But he looked as though I'd asked him to dance naked on the Astronomy Tower when I asked if he could demonstrate the Wronski Feint. I thought he would be so proud of himself."

"Would you be proud?" asked Remus.

"Of people asking me how I knew how to do such a famous move?" James laughed. "Of course I would! Come on, it's an honour to be asked something like that. It's like being a hero or something." He stabbed his finger towards his friends. "And you tell me one person who doesn't want to be thought of as a hero."

"Well, there's one right here."

James turned round to look up at Dean and his mouth fell open slightly when he saw him. Dean looked even paler than he normally did, his freckles standing out darkly against his skin and he had large dark bags underneath his eyes. He looked as though he had barely slept in at least a month, but James, for his part, had never seen or heard any sign that he was troubled during the night before. Admittedly, Dean wasn't as close to him as he was to Sirius and Remus, but they were all still friends and surely James would have noticed if there was something going on with him.

Apparently, though, Sirius was just as much in the dark as James was, because he blinked and remarked. "Hey, Dean, you don't look so good. Is something wrong?"

"No, no, I'm okay." Dean shrugged a little. "It's just that last Charms essay was an _evil _son of a bitch. Kept me awake three nights running before I could come close to finishing the damn thing, and that was with help from Lily."

James frowned to himself. It was true, Professor Flitwick's last essay had been unusually difficult both by the standards of the teacher and, so far, those of the subject as well. Even so, James was pretty sure that Dean was lying, or at least that he wasn't telling him the whole story. The blonde boy wouldn't even look him in the eye when he spoke, either.

He was so busy thinking that it took him a moment to realise that the conversation had continued on without him, and another to remember what Dean had said in the first place. "Wait," he said slowly, "what did you mean when you said that you didn't want to be thought of as a hero?"

"Exactly what I said," answered Dean with another shrug. "I don't want to be a hero."

"But you're – or you were – a hunter, right?" asked James frowning in confusion. "Isn't being a hero sort of a part of the job or something? You know, comes with the whole killing demons and other evil stuff territory and all that?"

Dean's eyes flashed and his jaw tightened. "Do you really think that's the reason I used to hunt?" he hissed. "Just so that I could be the big damn hero like in the stories?"

"Then what was it for?" asked James. "Revenge on the thing that killed your mum?"

"No, that was Dad's area." Dean dropped down beside Remus. "For me it was more about helping people an keeping them safe, so that what happened to us wouldn't happen to them. No one deserves to have their lives ripped apart like that. Mom deserved justice, I'll give you that, but I just wanted to have a chance at being able to help people." He tapped his fingers against the table. "And I wanted to try to keep the rest of my family together and safe. Dad and Sammy...they were all I had."

"Even though your dad had you risking your life every day when you were barely old enough to walk?" asked James sceptically.

He quickly realised that was the wrong thing to say when Dean's face flushed a furious shade of red. "Don't say that about my dad," he growled, his voice dangerously quiet. "We might not have had the most normal or comfortable life before we came here, but we survived and it worked for us. And, more importantly, we were there for each other."

"But wasn't it hard for you, living like that?" asked Alice, who had come over after evidently having overheard their conversation. "I mean, you were almost living out of a car, you never knew what was coming from one day to the next and your dad always seemed to be off risking his life, not to mention yours and your brother's, looking for something that you might never have found."

"Yeah, well, we did find it, didn't we?" said Dean angrily. "Look," he sighed, "I don't pretend my life was perfect, because it wasn't. But it was _our life _and it worked for us. Besides, Dad taught us stuff that saved our lives as much as the bad guys risked them and we saved people, so it was worth it."

James shuddered. "I couldn't do it," he said. "I mean, I like an adventure as much as anybody else, but only if knew what the end result was and that it would be worth it. I hate not knowing what's going to happen."

Dean snorted. "You just want to be a big damn hero, don't you, James?"

"Yeah, 'course I do!" laughed James. "And I'd just like to know exactly what's so wrong with that and who, really, wouldn't like to be a big hero – even if it's just for a little while?"

Dean shook his head. "You just don't get it, do you?" he sighed, gathering up his books. "It's not like it is in comic books or fairytales. It's..." but he stopped and shrugged. "You really don't get it."

James watched him leave and groaned. "Maybe I'd get it more if you'd just try and explain it to me," he muttered, dropping his voice as low as he could. However, he clearly wasn't quite quiet enough, because Dean stopped and turned around, his green eyes staring right at him. For a minute, James thought he was about to come back over and say something – or possibly punch him – but before he could, Lily came over, patted him on the arm and spoke to him, smiling. Dean grinned back at her and then left to sit at another table, along with Niamh Kennedy, Mary MacDonald, a couple of Ravenclaws and, to James's utter disgust, none other than Severus Snape.

Apparently, Sirius agreed. "Seriously, what on earth does Dean see in that greasy git?"

"I don't even know," said James. "And besides, he's got us as well; what does he need him for?"

"I didn't think having friends outside the five of us was such a bad thing," observed Remus, dipping his quill into a pot of ink.

"It's not that," huffed James. "I just don't know why he has to be friends with Snivellus, of all people."

"Yeah, come on, Remus, you can't exactly say that he's the poster boy for a great friend," agreed Sirius.

"No, I can't," admitted Remus. "And I know he's got greasy hair and I know sometimes, he can be a git. But he's not really all that bad."

James scowled. "But Remus...it's _Snape_! Of course he's that bad! He's...he's a snake!" Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lily glaring at him, her hand on Snape's shoulder, but he quickly decided to ignore her and abruptly looked away.

Remus shook his head. "Dean was right," he said as he crossed out a sentence in his essay. "You _really _don't get it. But," he targeted his glance towards Sirius, "I thought _you _might have understood a little better."

James stared at Sirius, expecting him to look as confused by that comment as he himself felt. But Sirius was staring fixedly at his own essay, a slight flush covering his face. He looked as though he desperately wanted to make some sort of typical derogatory comment about Snape, but something was stopping him, but whether it was loyalty to his friendship with Dean, or because of what Remus had just said, James wasn't sure. "As if we'd ever find anything in common with Snivelly Snape," he muttered, trying to ignore how unnerved he felt at Sirius's obvious discomfort.

Remus rolled his eyes again and returned to his essay, but once again they were distracted, this time by Peter, who was waving the _Daily Prophet_ in the air, his face flushed bright pink with excitement.

"Look at this!" he cried, throwing the paper down on top of Remus's essay and nearly upsetting the ink bottle in the process. "Honeydukes is having a massive sale of Sugar Quills – packs of a hundred for a Galleon!"

"Excellent!" said James, grabbing the paper and scanning it. "Except for the part where Honeydukes is in _Hogsmeade_ and, until we get to our third year, we have no way of actually getting there."

"When has that ever stopped you lot from trying to get yourselves into trouble before, Potter?" snorted Lily. "No offence, Dean, Remus."

"None taken," said Dean and Remus simultaneously.

"Because McGonagall knows that none of us are in our third year yet and there's no other way for us to get there," answered James. "We'd end up getting caught for sure."

"Nice thought, Pete," said Remus with a sad smile. "But it's true. We'd never get away with it."

Peter looked downcast for a minute. Then, suddenly, he brightened. "I know! The Prewett twins are both in fourth year. We can ask them to get the Sugar Quills for us!"

"Hmm." James nodded thoughtfully and tapped the top of his quill against his chin. "I guess that doesn't sound like a really awful idea."

"It's been known to happen sometimes!" squeaked Peter, who actually looked just as surprised as James felt. "Well...I think it has anyway."

"But wouldn't Fabian and Gideon just take our money and keep the Sugar Quills for themselves or something?" asked Remus, who was looking interested in spite of himself. Apparently, even if his preference was for chocolate, he could be counted on to get on board if there was a plan where sugar and other sweets were involved.

"No, they wouldn't do that," said James. "It goes against the Prankster's Code, after all – the rule of each of us helping each other with stuff like this."

"There's a Prankster's Code?" asked Sirius. "Where?"

"Well, there wasn't one," admitted James. "But there is now. And the first rule of the Prankster's Code is that pranksters always aid and abet each other."

Dean looked up. "Right, okay, sure. And what are the rest of the rules in this...Code, if I may ask?"

"It's called The Prankster's Code, Dean!" said James heatedly. "It's a set of golden rules for mischief makers!"

"Yeah, I figured that one out for myself, strangely enough," said Dean with a snorted laugh. "Despite not exactly being Sherlock Holmes, I can manage to put two and two together."

"Who's Sherlock Holmes?" asked James.

"He's – oh, never mind." Dean shook his head. "So, anyway, what are the rest of the rules in this code, James?"

"Well," James thought for a minute, only to then frown. "Er, actually, let me get back to you on that."

One of the Ravenclaw girls sat with Lily suddenly looked at Dean in disdainful astonishment. "You've actually heard of Sherlock Holmes?" she asked her eyebrow raised sharply.

"Yes, Phillipa. I'm American, not illiterate," replied Dean.

"Really?" Phillipa's eyebrow lifted even further so it was nearly disappearing into her hair. "I thought the two were the same thing," she said in a snooty voice.

Dean's face flushed dark red and he pushed his chair back hard. "Yeah? Well, you know what, I can even spell it – along with stuck-up, elitist cow." He grabbed his books and parchments and stormed out of the library, knocking a precariously placed book off a shelf with his bag as he left them behind.

Sirius stood up. "There's another rule for the Code, James," he said. "Pranksters always look out for each other. I know that's in the Marauder Code, but it should be expanded to fit all pranksters." He turned to glare at Phillipa. "And maybe _you _should think about getting to know someone before you decide to go around typecasting them."

"I think you mean _stereotyping_, don't you?" asked the girl.

James let out a burst of laughter. "Really? Did your parents feed you dictionaries or something?"

"Nope," said Sirius. "They just shoved one up her backside." He winked at James and then left the library, not even bothering to pick up the book Dean had knocked down.

Lily glanced between everyone at both tables. "I can't believe I'm going to say this, but –"

"You agree with Black and Potter?" Snape nodded. "I'm inclined to do so as well." He looked less than happy about it, but James had a feeling that this was more about having to agree with him than it was about what Phillipa had said about Dean. He wasn't surprised; just the thought of agreeing with the other boy, even when it concerned another prankster – and a Marauder at that – was enough to make his stomach turn.

"I was just saying," continued Phillipa as she bent to pick up the book and place it reverently back on the shelf, "with his past as a hunter, I can't imagine he had much time to read, and he doesn't really look like the type to like doing research. I'm almost surprised to see him in here working."

"Well, he did say that his dad didn't raise him to be a quitter," remarked Remus. It was true; Dean wasn't the best natural student, but he tried hard and, from what James and the others had seen, he was by no means stupid. "And I'd guess that where they used to stay on the road wasn't exactly the high end of town, so he probably had to find some way to keep himself and his brother busy before he started hunting properly."

"Yes, well, perhaps now he should start to learn to put his work first instead of your silly little games," scoffed Phillipa. "I mean, failing your first year could end with you doing even worse later on, and then –"

"Phillipa," said Lily, her fingers clenching hard around her quill, "why don't you just be quiet? Just go and do your own studying already, if it's such a big deal to you." She tucked her hair behind her ears. "Since that's obviously far more important as far as you're concerned than other people's feelings."

"Fine," huffed Phillipa, grabbing her bag and books. "I was just trying to give some advice that I thought you of all people might understand, Lily, considering how important doing well at school is to you."

James rolled his eyes at the girl as she walked away with her fellow Ravenclaw friends. "Wow, she's really, really horrible," he said and threw down his own quill. "Come on, Remus, Peter, let's get out of here. I've got all the notes I need and I want to go and get some lunch."

"You know, there's someone else who could do with some of that advice too," remarked Lily with a pointed glare. "Mainly about thinking about other people's feelings."

James nodded. "Yeah, you're right there," he said and smiled brightly at her. "Some people are just such mean...losers." He spoke as casually as he could, but he managed to glance quickly in Snape's direction, his jaw tightening as he watched him continue with his work. "Although some people definitely more than others."

"Yes, that's true," replied Lily. "But it's even more annoying when someone who seems very clever is so stupid when it comes to taking hints."

"I know!" shouted James, ignoring the reproving glare of Madam Pince as she strode past them. "It would almost be funny if it wasn't so silly."

There was a burst of laughter behind him and he looked up to see Snape shaking his head at him and trying to stifle his snickers. "And what are you finding so funny, Snivellus?"

"No-nothing," spluttered Snape. "Just...just that you don't seem to realise when you're the one who's being talked about."

"What's that meant to mean?" asked Remus, though James thought he sounded curious when he should probably have been annoyed.

"Oh, it's not you, Lupin," answered Snape. "Trust me on that."

James stared at him, gaping in shock. "Hey!" he exclaimed. "That's not fair!"

"And he catches on at last," muttered Snape and a couple of the other Ravenclaws giggled. Lily tried to look disapproving, but her eyes were twinkling and her mouth was visibly trembling slightly as she fought to hold back her own laughter.

James glowered even harder at Snape. He was both annoyed and unnerved that he hadn't realised that he was the one being talked about and insulted. "Yes, well, maybe certain other people shouldn't be insulting about someone else's House," he retorted.

Snape snorted. "Yeah, whatever, Potter. I thought you were going for lunch anyway."

"Oh, we were." James tugged on Remus's arm. "Come on, let's get out of here. There's too much grease floating around in the air."

Peter laughed hysterically at that. "Yeah, it's all there in Snivelly's hair!" he shouted, jumping to his feet.

James rolled his eyes. "Peter," he said slowly, "the joke isn't really funny when you explain it."

"It wasn't really funny anyway," muttered Remus.

"Oh." Peter's cheeks reddened. "Sorry."

"Ah, never mind." James shrugged. "You coming for lunch with us now, then?"

"Yes!" squawked Peter, starting to jump up and down. "Food time!"

"Oh, Potter, before you go!" Lily called out. "I'm only saying this because Madam Hooch made it pretty clear that we have to work together, but we decided to meet tomorrow to finish our assignment on broom maintainance and flying."

"Oh, yeah, okay." James wrinkled his nose thoughtfully. "Shall we meet on the Quidditch pitch at, say...half past four? That'll give us a couple of hours before the Hufflepuffs come to start practicing for their next match."

"I'm rather disturbed at how well you know the schedule for each House's Quidditch practices, Potter," said Lily with a bland smile. "But that sounds fine. At least it means I won't have to spend any more time with you than is absolutely necessary."

"Hey!" protested James. "I'm not that bad!"

"Come on." Remus patted his shoulder. "Let's go and eat."

"So, Dean," James said around a mouthful of mashed potato, "as I was asking before – who's Sherlock Holmes?"

Dean stared at him. "Wow, and I thought some Americans ate like pigs."

"Some of them?" asked a drawling voice and James turned round to see Lucius Malfoy behind them, sneering as usual. "I thought you'd have said all of them."

"Well, I do like to prove stereotypes wrong," said Dean with a shrug. "Too bad you'd have trouble proving wrong the stereotype that inbreeding is bad for you."

Malfoy scowled. "You aren't worth my time, Winchester," he hissed and stormed off to the Slytherin table.

Dean watched him leave with a raised eyebrow. "Wow, that was a really lame comeback."

"You're telling me." James swallowed. "But yes, so, who is Sherlock Holmes?"

To his surprise, the reply didn't come from Dean, but from Sirius. "He's a detective in Muggle books from the Victorian era...I think." He shrugged. "Anyway, he's really awesome at solving crimes. He can figure out practically anything."

Remus blinked. "Don't take this the wrong way, Sirius, but...you're from an obsessive pureblood family. How do you know that?"

"Rule number one of how to annoy my family," replied Sirius. "If they don't like it, I do."

"Fair enough." James laughed. "So, basically, if you say you're like Sherlock Holmes, then you're saying that you're really good at working things out?"

"You're also saying that you've got a really big ego on you," said Dean. "But yes, that's the general idea." He nibbled some chicken. "Personally, I always preferred Watson."

"Who?" asked James.

"The doctor," explained Sirius. "How come?"

"Because Holmes may be a genius, but he has no people skills," answered Dean. "And Watson kind of reminds me of Sam in a way."

"Huh." James nodded, but didn't ask any more. He didn't feel much more than a vague curiosity and he had a feeling that if Dean wanted to tell him, then he would. Instead, he helped himself to some more potatoes and asked, "So, we've only got a few weeks until the Christmas holidays. What's everyone planning?"

"I'm staying here," said Sirius. "I really don't want to go home and my parents don't want me there anyway. Besides, my cousin Andromeda told me that Christmas at Hogwarts is always really amazing."

"I'm staying too," said Peter. "My family are going on some adventure holiday and they don't trust me on my own at home." He frowned. "I don't know why."

James smiled a little, privately thinking that, though he was their friend, Peter's parents had very good reason not to trust him home alone. "I'm going home this year, I think," he said. "My cousin's baby is due around Christmas Day and I really want to be there for it. And my dad said he has a big surprise for me, but he doesn't want to give it to me at school for some reason."

"Oooh!" Sirius's face lit up. "What is it?"

"Dunno," said James. "He just said that he found it really useful when he was at Hogwarts and it's been passed down through our family for generations. But he did say it wasn't a book."

"Interesting," mused Remus.

"What about you two?" James asked Dean and Remus. "Are you going home?"

"I don't know yet," said Dean. "I want to see what Christmas is like here, but then again," he stopped, looking uncertain. "I just don't know if it'll be the same without Dad and Sammy. We didn't really have a chance to do anything for Thanksgiving this year either, so I do want to be with them. Besides, I promised Sam I would come home for the holidays."

"Perhaps you could stay here for a few days leading up to Christmas, go home and then come back a few days before term starts," suggested Remus. "That's what I'm doing."

"That's a good idea." Dean glanced at Sirius and Peter. "So, I guess it's just going to be you two staying here," he said with a grin. "Just try not to miss us all too much, okay?"

Sirius stuck his tongue out. "Oh, shut up."


	14. Chapter 13

_Author's Note: A massive thank-you to Shlane for helping me out of a tight corner with the story behind Dean's amulet (not the first tight corner she's helped me out of, I have to admit). You're absolutely awesome and I love you to bits! _

_This chapter's for you! :) xxx_

Chapter 13

Lily was feeling stiff and tired as she staggered off the broomstick and back onto firm ground. It seemed to her as though she and James Potter had been seated on the uncomfortable length of wood all day, though she could see that the sky was still light, so that obviously wasn't true. Evidently, hanging around with Potter, especially in mid-air, could make anything seem like an eternity. She really didn't feel too happy about being suspended thousands of feet in the air (well, it was really more like only a hundred feet at the very most) with nothing between her and a nasty fall apart from a thin and rather fragile-looking stick of wood. Especially when Madam Hooch wasn't there and the only person she could count on was James Potter, who she absolutely disliked. The boy just made her cringe every time she came near him, which wasn't very helpful when she was almost dependent on him for survival.

Still, she couldn't quite manage to deny that James's bragging about his ability to fly hadn't been all talk. He was more than capable of handling a broomstick and he was definitely confident in the air – moreso than he sometimes seemed to be on the ground, which was saying something – and Lily had to admit that did something to help her confidence. He did also go out of his way to make sure that she was as safe as she could be when she was riding, which she really did appreciate and which made it a little easier for her to be at least polite towards him. He had teased her a little at first and been rather astonished that anyone could _not _like to fly (and then wasted twenty minutes gushing about how there was no better feeling in the world), but he had then done everything he could to make sure that she felt safe. She had to thank him for that, she supposed, but it still didn't mean that she had to like him. When all was said and done, after all, James was still an arrogant bully most of the time who had far too high an opinion of himself. Of course, if that was less true, Lily might have been more inclined to admire his intelligence and his talented flying, but she didn't think that his head needed to be inflated any more than it already was.

"You heading back?" she asked in as casual a voice as she could when James stored the broomstick kit back in the shed. "It's getting cold and dark now."

"Nah, I was actually going to stay out for a little while longer," said James with a nonchalant shrug as he re-mounted his broomstick. "I want to practice on my flying in darker conditions so that I can be perfect for the Quidditch trials next year. Then they'll have to pick me!"

"Right," said Lily vaguely. "Well...don't stay out for too long. I wouldn't want you to catch a cold – or a detention," she added quietly.

"Lily, I didn't know you cared!" cried James, grinning broadly even as he lost control of his broomstick and, with a shriek, he crashed into the bushes beside the broomshed. "Ow," he muttered, spitting out leaves and pulling twigs out of his messy hair. He glanced up at Lily. "You didn't see that."

Normally, Lily would never have even considered holding an embarrassing moment like that over someone, simply because she couldn't stand the thought of humiliating people who didn't deserve it. But James Potter was a different matter altogether. He seemed to actively and openly enjoy being the cause of other people's misery, including more than one of her friends. It was time, she thought, that he was given a taste of his own medicine for a change.

"Well, you know what they say, Potter," she replied, giving him a bright smile. "Don't dish it out if you can't take it."

She briefly allowed herself to smirk when she saw the horrified look on James's face, but then decided to leave quickly before she actually ended up laughing right in his face. In truth she wasn't sure whether she would have told anyone what had happened. She knew it had the potential to make James into a laughing stock amongst several of the students, but at the same time, part of her thought he deserved a little payback for some of the things he had done.

"I'll wait until after Christmas," she eventually decided. "He might have decided to slow down before then." Of course this was unlikely, but Lily still felt that everyone deserved a second chance to redeem themselves and change their ways, even James Potter, although, really, this would probably be more like his fiftieth chance.

Nodding to herself, she started to make her way back to the castle, drawing her cloak and scarf closer to her against the cold, when she caught sight of what appeared to be two figures sat together beside the lake. Not wanting to interrupt what looked like something private, even intimate, but equally thinking that they should be going inside before it got too cold and dark, Lily moved quietly over to them, hoping that she could get their attention without startling them. They were, after all, sat rather close to the freezing water and she didn't want to cause any accidents.

"Evans? What are you doing out here?"

The voice startled her a little and she blinked a few times before she recognised Sirius Black's face framed by his long black hair, his grey eyes seeming to stare at her intently. She stifled a small groan; she didn't think Sirius was quite as bad as James was and she had to admit to feeling a little sorry for him sometimes, having heard some of the stories about his family, but he still wasn't in her top ten list of people to be around. "I could ask you the same thing, Black," she said. "It's getting cold." She tilted her head. "You're not waiting for James, are you, because he might be a while."

"No." A quiet voice beside Sirius spoke up and Lily looked down into Dean's green eyes. "He came out with me. We both needed a little space."

There was something in Dean's voice that made Lily worry. "Are you all right?" she asked, still looking at her friend, but including Sirius in the question as well.

Dean shrugged and picked up a flat pebble, tossing it towards the lake and skimming it six times. As he did so, Lily caught sight of his knuckles which were beginning to bruise – as, she noticed, were Sirius's. This time, she did let out a loud groan. "You've been fighting!" she cried. "I'd have expected that from you, Black, but did you –"

"They deserved it," said Sirius coldly. "You weren't there; you don't know what happened."

"Well, what did happen?" asked Lily.

Dean scowled and skimmed another pebble. "Doesn't matter."

"Dean," said Sirius with a sigh. "Of course it matters. They had no right to say that to you."

"What did who say?" asked Lily. The detatched tone of Dean's voice was scaring her a little and she started to wonder if she'd misjudged the situation. She glanced at Sirius. "What happened?"

"Third year Slytherins happened," said Sirius with a snort. "The next generation of Lucius Malfoys. Dean, Remus and I overheard them talking about the slimy git and I said," he stopped and winced, "I may have called them his bitches or something," he mumbled.

Dean snorted. "Nope, I think those were pretty much the words you used," he said.

"They didn't take it well," said Sirius. "Called me a blood-traitor and everything."

"And you punched them for that?" asked Lily. "It's not a very nice thing to say, but it's not the first time anyone's said that to you."

"No, I didn't punch them for that," said Sirius grimly. "I punched them for –"

"For calling me the son of," Dean made air-quotes, "a 'filthy maggot-infested Muggle who wouldn't know true magic if it came and bit him in the butt'." He scowled and threw another pebble. "I told them no one talks about my dad like that. And then," his voice broke a little and he looked down, "they said something else..."

"What?" asked Lily, frowning back at Dean's bruised knuckles. "How bad was it?"

"Oh, I don't know," said Sirius dryly. "How bad would you consider saying 'Oh, sorry, we forgot about the demon's whore you called a mother' to be?"

Dean scowled. "Thanks, Sirius."

"They actually said that?" spluttered Lily, her eyes going wide.

"Yeah," muttered Dean. "So, I punched them. 'Course, that was the only bit Filch saw and so we got detention. Even Remus and he didn't do anything!" He threw another pebble into the lake, not even bothering to try and skim it that time. "Sirius, I'm sorry..."

"It's not your fault!" exclaimed Sirius. "You tried to get us out of it and if you hadn't punched them –"

"You wouldn't have done it again, Black," interrupted Lily. "At least, not if I'd been there, because I would have gone in and done it myself before you could have moved!"

"You?" spluttered Sirius. "Don't take this the wrong way, but I thought you were all about making friends with those jerks."

"Not when they go and say things like that, I'm not," answered Lily. "Because in this case, Black –"

"I think we've known each other long enough to move past surnames, Lily," interrupted Sirius.

"Fine, Sirius. In this case," Lily sighed, "you're right. They were jerks and they had no right to say that."

"Exactly," said Sirius.

"They're not all –" began Dean, but he stopped, frowned and shook his head.

Sirius let out a sigh. "Okay, whatever," he said, dragging himself to his feet. "I'm going inside, it's getting nippy out here. You coming?" When Dean shook his head, he shrugged and walked off, muttering something under his breath that certainly didn't sound very pleasant.

Lily picked at a few blades of grass and tossed them towards the water. "Are you –"

"You don't have to stay out here just because I'm here," said Dean in a tired voice. "I'm okay, really; just pissed at myself for letting them get to me."

"But that's silly," said Lily. "You had every right to be angry with them and you didn't do anything that they didn't deserve. And I bet your mum would have said the same thing."

"Would she?" Dean frowned. "How can you know that? How can you be so sure that she would have done that when I don't even know if she would?" He slammed the last stone angrily into the lake and dropped his head down, wrapping his arms tightly around himself.

Lily untied her cloak and wrapped it around Dean's shoulders. "Because she's your mum," she said simply. "And whatever happens or wherever she is, she loves you and she always will. She's so proud of you, Dean – you and your brother – and she knows how much you love her."

A tiny smile flittered across Dean's face as he almost instinctively leaned into Lily's side. Glancing around, he reached underneath the collar of his robes and drew out a thin silver chain with a small silver disc on it. Leaning over, Lily could see that it was engraved all over with symbols, some of which she recognised, but others she didn't.

"Protection charms," explained Dean. "Uncle Bobby gave it to me on my eighth birthday, just before we came to England. He gave one to Dad and Sammy too. Said he wanted to make sure we stayed safe, even though we weren't in the hunting game any more. It's probably a good idea too, considering how many things Dad's pissed off over the years," he added with a wry grin. "It used to be Mom's."

"Really?" Lily's interest peaked. "Did she leave it to her brother when she died?"

Dean shook his head. "Uncle Bobby's not her brother. He's a friend, but we've always seen him as an uncle. But he knew Mom for a while before Dad did and when she died, he got all her stuff and sorted it out himself, because Dad wouldn't know how to organise a wedding in Las Vegas."

"And then he gave it to you," said Lily. "That's so lovely."

"Yeah. After old Yellow-Eyes bit it, some other demon was trying to go after Dad, but Bobby got there first and ganked it himself. He found this," he motioned to the amulet, "at his house afterwards and gave it to me, just like Mom's dad gave it to her. Just, you know, to be safe."

"That's an amazing legacy to have," said Lily, smiling. "You must love having something that belonged to your mother."

"I," Dean bit his lip nervously, "actually, I nearly gave it to Sam. I just thought he should have a part of her, because he never got to know her."

"You didn't have much of a chance either," said Lily quietly.

"I had more of one than he did," insisted Dean. "I just felt like I got more than enough from her and that he deserved that same chance."

Lily was about to ask what her friend meant, but then she spotted a picture he was holding in his hand and recognised the beautiful young blonde woman. She also remembered Sirius commenting how much Dean did look like his mother and opened her mouth to say just how true it was. But before she could get a word out, she caught a look of unbearable sadness in her friend's face and stopped herself. Apparently, Dean was more than a little sensitive about his resemblance to the woman.

"Hey," she said gently and moved closer to wrap her arm around his shoulders. "It's not a bad thing, you know."

"Everyone says that," whispered Dean. "Everyone always says that she lives on in me, and, yeah, it's great to think that there's always a part of her here. But I hate how much it also hurts Dad." He put the picture away and stared out across the lake. "I don't want him to be sad."

Lily didn't know what to say to that, but her heart broke a little at the trembling in his voice. She sighed and hugged him tighter, letting him rest his head on her shoulder. It was strange, she thought to herself, how so many people looked at Dean and either just saw him as a one-time hunter – a hero or a villain, depending on who you asked – or as a troublemaker, like James and Sirius. But it was so clear that there was so much more to him than that; he might have been a hunter and he might have a flair for mischief, but underneath that, he was a good friend with a kind heart. For him to have even considered passing up the chance to keep something like that amulet so his brother could feel closer to their dead mother was enough to tell Lily that.

But it also made her think a little about some of her other classmates, such as a certain boy with hazel eyes and messy black hair. She frowned to herself, thinking about how quick she'd been to dislike him and dismiss him, just as she had seen a lot of students do, not just to Dean, but also to others, herself included.

Suddenly, Dean sat up and brushed his hair off his face. "Let's go inside," he said. "I'm getting cold." He stood up and held out a hand for her, a cheeky smile suddenly spreading over his face. "May I?"

"You may," chuckled Lily, deciding to play along. She linked her arm through Dean's and they walked back to the castle, just as the first flakes of snow began to fall, a few of them landing on Dean's long eyelashes. "Hey," she whispered. "Look."

Dean's face lit up. "Snowball fight tomorrow!" he cried out, grabbing Lily's hands and spinning her around in fast circles until they both stumbled and fell flat on their backs, laughing breathlessly. "Ow, shit...that's cold."

"Well, it is winter now," laughed Lily. "It's not going to be getting any warmer for a while." She lay back and allowed her breathing to return to normal before she spoke again. "Dean, do you think I judge people too quickly?"

"What do you mean?" asked Dean, his brow furrowed in confusion.

"Nothing." Slowly, Lily sat up and shrugged. "I was just thinking about James and –"

"James?" Now, Dean sat up as well. "Come on, Lily, don't be stupid! Would you want to be friends with me if you were that quick to judge people?" He shook his head. "Look. I know James is one of my friends – well, sort of – and he's a good flier and most of that crap he comes out with is true. But he's also such a jerk sometimes. Most of the time." He dropped his voice a little. "I think even Sirius thinks so and he's the guy's best friend. So, no, I don't think you're judgemental."

A weight that Lily hadn't even realised was there lifted at her friend's words. Deep down, she had been a little worried that she was being unfair to James; even though she hated the way he often treated others, he did have a good sense of humour when he wasn't being a bully. Smiling, she pulled Dean upright and brushed the snow off their clothes. "Come on," she said, "let's go inside before the snow gets worse and they have to send out a search party."

Dean nodded. "Okay. Come –" but he stopped when he spotted something coming towards them. He tilted his head and groaned. "Oh, _balls_."

"What?" asked Lily, more than a little nervous at the harsh exclamation, even though Dean didn't seem to be getting ready for a fight or anything like that.

"That search party we wanted to try and avoid?" Dean let out a soft laugh. "Think it's a bit late for that. Look."

Lily squinted in the direction Dean was pointing in and laughed when she recognised three familiar figures. "It does seem to be," she admitted. "Still, it could have been worse."

"Yeah." Dean nodded as Hagrid came closer, Remus and Severus running to keep up with him. "We could have been caught by McGonagall."

"Yeh could well still be!" retorted Hagrid, who did not look impressed. "Yer both ruddy lucky I was the firs' one Remus here found! Yeh've been out here for hours; it's startin' ter get cold, yeh idiots!"

"We noticed," said Dean dryly but when Hagrid glared at him, he shrugged. "Hey, isn't James still out here? Lily said he was doing some broomstick stuff with her – oh, _crap_!" His eyes suddenly went wide and he looked over at Severus. "I was coming to meet you, then those assholes turned up and...I completely forgot!"

"It's okay," said Severus, but Lily thought he looked a little upset. "I understand." Slowly, he rested one hand on Dean's arm. "You're going home for Christmas in two days, right?" Dean nodded. "Well, we can do what we were going to do today tomorrow before you go."

Dean looked uneasy. "I don't know," he murmured, stumbling over a snow-covered mound. "Couldn't it wait until after Christmas?"

"Nope," said Severus with a grin. "I know you've been trying to put it off and I know you're scared. But if I let you wait then you'll never do it. Do it tomorrow and get it over with."

"Fine," huffed Dean, but Lily could see a hint of a smile forming on his lips. "Now can we just get inside before we turn into walking ice sculptures?"

"Surely if we were sculptures, we wouldn't be walking?" chuckled Remus.

"Fine, living ice sculptures," amended Dean. "Happy now?"

"I'll be happier when yer all back in yer common rooms and getting' ready fer bed!" snapped Hagrid, but Lily thought she caught a hint of a grin underneath his beard. "Now, come on!"

"I keep half expecting him to call us all 'idjits'," whispered Dean as they traipsed back to the castle. "He reminds me of my uncle Bobby," he explained when Lily frowned at him.

"Is," Severus seemed a little hesitant, "is...is he..."

"A hunter?" Dean sighed. "You know, you can ask. I don't want to run around shouting about it, but I'm not going to lie, either. So, yes, he is. And he's awesome."

"Doesn't this all mess with your head?" blurted Lily, finally voicing the question she'd been wanting to ask ever since she'd found out about her friend's past. "I mean, from what I've heard about hunters, they're not exactly..."

"Friendly towards witches?" Dean laughed. "You could say that. Dad hated them almost as much as he hated the demon. Although, to be fair, witches back home aren't exactly friendly towards hunters. Mind you, not a lot of people are," he added quietly, catching a couple of snowflakes in his palm.

"Well, you seem to be very well-adjusted," said Remus, blinking when the taller boy burst into laughter. "What? What did I say?"

"Remus, I have been called a lot of things," spluttered Dean. "But well-adjusted was never one of them."


	15. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

_Christmas Day at the Evans home..._

When Lily woke up, she was a little startled to see that it had been snowing in the night. Not heavily, it was true, but the little town where they lived rarely got any snow, even at its coldest, so it was fairly odd to see the trees and the ground being lightly covered in the white flakes. She smiled; already it felt more like Christmas Day somehow. Slowly, she opened her window and stuck her head outside, letting the flakes settle into her hair and and onto her eyelashes. It was bitterly cold, but she didn't care; she was far too busy taking it all in.

"I am such a little girl at heart," she admitted to herself. "I still can't hide from that fantasy I had years ago of a white Christmas. Now that it's happened, though, I almost don't know what to do."

"How about you trying to pay attention to what's going on right now and right in front of you?"

Lily sighed when she heard the all-too familiarly stuck-up voice behind her. "And a very happy Christmas to you as well, Tuney," she said, smiling at her older sister who was looking at her with a scowl on her face.

Petunia did not appear impressed in the slightest; in fact, her scowl only became more pronounced. "Just get rid of that owl before it leaves a mess everywhere," she snapped. "And don't forget the rules – no opening of any of the presents before breakfast," she added, as though Lily was the one who had always had trouble remembering that particular rule, and then stormed out, slamming the door behind her.

Lily shook her head; she wasn't going to let her sister spoil Christmas Day for her, that much was certain. Looking up, she could see a brown owl soaring above her, close to the ceiling. It wasn't an especially large bird, but it did look cared for and exceptionally well-loved as well, she had to say. After a minute, Lily realised that it had dropped a parcel and a couple of letters onto her bed, so she wandered over to have a look, laughing a little as the owl shook out its wings and sent a cloud of feathers all across the room and over her head. She was by no means lazy when it came to being tidy, but she was not an obsessive cleaner like Petunia was, even though she was only thirteen years old. If her sister had seen the feathers, she would have probably fainted on the spot, but Lily was perfectly happy to let them stay where they were for the time being. Besides, she had to admit that she quite liked the look of them.

A quick look at the messy writing on the parcel told her who the sender was and also enabled her to deduce that the bird flying across her room was Dean's owl, Hendrix. She smiled; no wonder the small bird looked so happy, despite the long journey to get to her house. If there was one thing Dean Winchester was extremely good at, it was treating his family and friends – which included his owl – with care and with love, something that Lily respected him for all the more.

"Well, no one ever said anything about not opening any cards or letters before breakfast on Christmas morning," she remarked as she tore open the envelope. Two sheets of parchment fell into her hands, one covered in her friend's messy scribble and the other written in a much neater hand that she didn't recognise. Her curiosity peaked, Lily picked it up and started to read, a soft smile spreading over her face as she did so.

_Hey,_

_I know that you don't really know me yet, but I've heard a lot about you from Dean. I wanted to wish you a happy Christmas myself, but I also wanted to tell you something else; that...well, your friendship means a lot to my brother. He might not say it very often (and he'd hate it if he found out I was telling you this!), but I know that it does, just from the way he talks about you. So, I guess what I'm trying to say is thanks for being there for him. You probably know by now that he doesn't open up to people easily – for reasons I'm sure you understand – and it means a lot to me that he can call you his friend and that you can be there for him at times when Dad and I can't. So, thank you and, once again, happy Christmas._

_From Sam Winchester (Dean's little brother) _

A pleased flush coloured Lily's cheeks, even though she had to blink away a few tears at the same time. It made her sound old enough to be Sam's mother, but the idea of a boy who she didn't even know – although with how much Dean talked about him, she felt as though he was practically _her _brother as well – taking the time to write to her and wish her a happy Christmas touched her more deeply than she could admit.

Something hard and circular between the fingers of her other hand reminded her of Dean's letter and she quickly unfolded the parchment – and out fell a silver-coloured chain with a round disc attached to it. The disc was engraved with a pentagram and a few other symbols Lily didn't recognise. Wrinkling her eyebrows, she started to read her friend's letter.

_Dear Lily,_

_Happy Christmas!_

_The pattern on this amulet is a Devil's Trap. It will help to protect you against demons possessing you. I've sent one to the rest of my friends, and Sam and I each have one too. I know that, while we're at Hogwarts, there are wards strong enough to keep almost anything out (trust me, Dad made Uncle Bobby check. Seven times), but it would still mean a lot to me if you wore this anyway, just as an extra safety precaution. I don't want you, or anyone else, to get hurt. I know it may not be the most permanent method of protection, but I'm not sure that your parents would be happy if you did what Dad and Uncle Bobby did and inked it onto your skin! _

_I have sent you a proper Christmas present too, by the way, but I know what you said about your family's rule, so no opening until your parents say that you can! I know you, Lily, and I know that deep down, you are a little bit of a rebel. (You'd have to be, otherwise why would you want _me _as your friend?)_

_Also (and I really hope this isn't too weird), I think I should apologise for whatever might have happened on the platform when we came back to King's Cross. My dad is a great guy, most of the time, but he can be...well, he can be a little difficult sometimes, I guess. (Sam just muttered something under his breath that didn't sound very nice!) He didn't tell me anything else about what happened, but I can only assume that he managed to land himself in trouble or annoy the wrong people. Again. So, whatever he did, I'm sorry on his behalf and I hope that it won't affect our friendship._

_Well, now that everything has probably been made really uncomfortable, I'll just say happy Christmas to you and your family – oh, and don't let your sister get you down (or if she does start being a bitch to you, there's something in with this letter that might help you!)_

_See you at Hogwarts in the New Year!_

_Bye for now – Dean. _

Lily folded up the letter and sat down at the foot of her bed with a soft sigh. As always, hearing from Dean left her with so many conflicting emotions. On the one hand, she loved having his company, even if it was only through a letter, because he had very quickly become one of her closest friends. He was fun to be around, smart – despite his occasional dislike of studying – and easygoing, but Lily always knew that if and when the need arose, he would always be there to protect his friends, no questions asked. But she also hated how much Dean always seemed to put himself down, as though he simply wasn't good enough. Her stomach had clenched hard when she had read his comment wondering why she would want him to be her friend and it disturbed her deeply that the boy could not see that he was a good person and, as far as Lily was concerned, an even better friend. She sighed, briefly wishing that she could curse the person who had caused Dean's lack of self-esteem into oblivion.

"Give it a few years, Lily," she told herself. "Then you can do exactly that, if you still want to."

At the same time, the last two paragraphs of the letter made her pause. She could remember the scene at the station as though it had happened yesterday. Nothing had really happened, but at the same time, it had seemed to tell so much.

* * *

><p>"<em>Bye!" Dean waved to James and leaned in to whisper something to Remus who breathed out, nodded and slapped him on the back. Dean nodded at him and then turned back to Lily. "I'll send you your present by owl post – once I've actually decided on it and bought it, that is," he added with a sheepish grin.<em>

"_Well, don't make it something too interesting," laughed Lily as she scanned the crowded station. "We're not allowed to open any presents until after breakfast. Family tradition."_

"_Ah." Dean nodded. "Sounds cool. It's nice to have those traditions, you know. It's like..." his voice trailed off and his eyes took on a faraway gaze. "Yeah."_

_Lily smiled, even though she wasn't quite sure why. But before she could say anything, she saw a bright grin spread over Dean's face as he was swept into the arms of a younger boy with messy brown hair and large dark eyes that looked like they belonged better on a puppy than they did on a boy. She smiled to herself; the boy could only be Sam Winchester, Dean's little brother. Before she could go over and introduce herself, however, she caught sight of her father and rushed over to greet him. But when she came closer, she saw that he was facing off with another man, shorter and with salt-and-pepper hair. Neither of them were speaking, but her father's jaw was clenching in a way that said he wanted to say more than a few words and the other man was watching him with one eyebrow raised in confusion that was rapidly growing less polite. _

_She frowned slightly, wondering if she should go over and talk to them. But something in her father's demeanour stopped her. She had never seen him look at someone with such hidden anger before and it scared her a little. At the same time, the other man didn't seem to know what was wrong; he didn't even seem to know who was glaring at him like that. It was all very confusing._

"_Oh, crap." Dean's voice pulled Lily out of her thoughts and she looked up just in time to see him tug on the dark-haired man's arm. "Dad, come on; let's go." _

"_What?" The man blinked and his face lit up a little. "Hey, kiddo! Didn't see you coming!" _

_Lily's mouth dropped open at the soft American lilt to the man's voice. That was Dean's father, the infamous John Winchester? The man who, from what she'd heard from Dean, had made more enemies than he knew what to do with? It didn't seem to fit with the man who was now picking Dean up and spinning him around as he patted Sam on the head. Sam seemed just as confused and her father was staring at the small family with barely concealed contempt that was directed solely towards John. _

"_Dad?" she asked, nudging his elbow. "Time to go?" _

"_Yeah." Her father nodded, blinking a few times. "Yeah, let's go. Say bye to your...friends." He seemed to struggle on the last word, something that Lily didn't like very much and, judging by the confused look on his face, neither did Dean._

_John, however, seemed intent on putting his thoughts into words. "Look, pal, I don't know what your problem with me is," he said, "but why don't you just spit it out already?"_

_For a moment, Lily held her breath, thinking that her father was going to throw a punch. But instead, he just huffed out a harsh laugh. "Why don't you just take a few days to think about it, Winchester?" he said. "It just might take you that long." _

"_Hey!" interrupted Dean. "You might be one in a long list of people my dad's pissed off, but you don't talk to him like that in public!" _

_Immediately, Lily noticed her father's demeanour change. "No offence meant to you or your brother," he said. "Come on, Lily, your mother's waiting for us."_

"_Okay," said Lily. "Bye, Dean."_

* * *

><p>It was true that the meeting had not been something that Lily would have called fun. In fact, it had been downright uncomfortable, not to mention unsettling. She knew her father had a bit of a temper sometimes, but she had never seen him glare at someone like that and it had scared her. But she didn't understand why Dean would have felt the need to apologise for what had happened. She knew her friend had a guilt complex as it was – probably from his past as a hunter – but surely he knew that whatever had been going on between their fathers was not his fault.<p>

"Lily!" Petunia's shrill voice echoed up the stairs. "Will you just get down here and stop mooning over your freaky friends already? Breakfast is getting cold!"

"Okay," said Lily, though probably not loud enough for her sister to hear her, and, slipping the chain into her pocket, she trailed down the stairs, feeling oddly miserable for Christmas Day. Even the large tree shimmering with decorations at the bottom of the stairs didn't make her feel much better, but she managed to put on a smile when she saw her family at the table. "Morning."

Petunia sneered at her. "Where've you been? Writing to your _boyfriend_?"

"He's not my boyfriend," replied Lily as she dropped into a chair. "We're just friends." She wasn't sure exactly who her sister was referring to, but she decided not to ask; she didn't really want to know anyway.

"Oh, relax, Lily," chuckled her father, winking at her. "You might change your mind in a few years, and besides, your sister's only teasing you, aren't you, Tuney?"

Petunia's mouth clenched slightly, but she quickly forced a smile. "Yes, Dad." But Lily didn't miss the smirk that was shot in her direction, though she did her best to ignore it.

"Anyway, I bet soon enough, our Lily's going to be the talk of the school amongst those boys!" her father continued with a cheeky grin. "You'll be beating them off with a stick, probably!"

"Dad!" Lily blushed hard.

"Oh, stop teasing her, Nick, you're as bad as Petunia." Lily's mother came in with a platter of eggs and bacon and stooped to kiss her husband on the cheek. "I'm sure our Lily knows what she's doing. She's a smart girl."

"Just like you, Jen," chuckled Nick. "Just like you."

Lily coughed slightly into her bowl of fruit to stop herself laughing out loud. Even after they had been together for so long, her parents still had the ability to behave like lovesick teenagers. She wondered what they would have been like when they had first met; all she knew was that her mother had been to America when she was a young woman and her father, who had lived there at the time, had been so taken with her that he had almost immediately married her and returned to England with her after living in America for two years. Apparently, her father's family hadn't been too pleased about the sudden wedding or the move and none of them had heard from them since.

It amused her, she had to admit, but she also found herself thinking about how she and Petunia knew almost nothing about their father's past. Normally, it wouldn't have bothered her that much – her father didn't like to talk about it at the best of times – but considering that she was good friends with the eldest son of a man he seemed to detest, it suddenly seemed to be rather more important. She didn't want her friendship with Dean to be affected because their fathers couldn't be civil to each other.

"Lily, are you all right?" her mother asked. "You're not eating your breakfast."

"I told you," said Petunia. "Lily's got a boyfriend."

Lily groaned. "I'm fine, Mum," she said. "Just excited that it's Christmas, really."

"Well, come on and get your breakfast finished!" said her father cheerfully. "Then it's presents time!"

"Dad!" cried Lily. "I'm not six!" But she forced a smile and a laugh as she swallowed a few more spoonfuls of cereal. Truthfully, however, the last thing on her mind was Christmas and presents. She just wanted to know what was going on with her father.

* * *

><p>"Why did you have to get that for Mum, Lily?" Petunia whined, motioning to the beaded necklace their mother had just opened. "I wanted to get it for her! I saw it weeks before you even came home!"<p>

"Then why didn't you get it for her when you first saw it?" asked Lily.

"I was trying to save up the money for it," said Petunia sulkily. "But when I had, it'd already gone, so I had to get her those!" She flapped her hand at the box of bath lotions that had just been opened. "I can't believe you bought it."

"Well, I didn't know, did I?" retorted Lily. "If you'd told me that you wanted to get it for her, we could have split the cost and said it was from both of us, couldn't we?"

Petunia snorted. "Like I'd share a present with a freak like –"

"Petunia!" their mother scolded. "Stop it! There's no need for it, especially not today. And for what it's worth, I love both your presents and I would regardless of what they were, because they're from my girls." She smiled and Petunia looked a little ashamed.

"Okay, who's next?" Nick reached underneath the tree and pulled out a small box-shaped gift. "Lily, this one's for you, from your cousin Abby."

Lily's face lit up; despite being almost twenty-two, Abby had always been her favourite cousin. She carefully undid the wrapping paper and out tumbled a deep green box. Lifting the lid, she saw a silver charm bracelet resting on a white knitted cushion. There were a few small charms on it, including a lily, a book and a heart, but the card said that Lily should be the one to choose the rest. "Wow," she whispered. "Look."

"There's some rings in here too." Jen reached under the cushion and pulled out a small bag. "You can use these to attach your new charms to the bracelet."

Absently, Lily reached into her pocket and pulled out the small charm that Dean had sent her. "Here's one for a start."

"All right, find a..." but Jen's voice trailed off when she leaned over to look at the silver disc. "Nick," she said, her voice suddenly becoming a little strained, "come here a second."

"What is it, sweetheart?"

"This." Jen pulled out the locket that Lily knew had been a gift from her husband on their wedding day. "Look at Lily's charm. Isn't it the same design?"

"Dad?" Lily asked, alarmed as she watched all the colour drain out of her father's face. "What is it?"

Her father swallowed. "Let me see that, Lily," he said slowly. "Please."

Puzzled, Lily dropped the charm into his hand and watched him study it and then rush out of the room with it. Frowning, she followed him at a distance and saw him go into the master bedroom. She wanted to go straight in and confront him, but stopped herself and waited out of sight, watching him open a cupboard at the top of the wardrobe and pull out an old book and consult it, his hands shaking as he turned the pages. He stared at the page for several moments and then slammed the book shut and threw it back into the cupboard, slamming the doors shut before Lily could see what else was inside.

Disappointed, but no less curious, Lily rushed back down the stairs and into the kitchen where she started to make some tea as her father walked in. Forcing a smile, she said, "Everything all right?"

"Yeah, fine," said Nick slowly. "Lily...where did you get this charm?"

"My friend Dean gave it to me."

"The boy on the platform?" Lily nodded and Nick snorted. "Well, at least one of the Winchesters is good for something."

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing." Nick switched on his own smile. "Is that a cup of tea there?"

But Lily wasn't going to be put off. "Dad, do you know John Winchester?"

"I know of the family," he said shortly and started to leave the kitchen. But just before he stepped out of the door, he turned back and dropped the charm back into Lily's hand. "Make sure you wear that," he whispered and rushed out again.

Lily stared after him, suspicion rising inside her; wasn't her dad a Muggle who had nothing to do with magic? He surely shouldn't have gotten so panicked about the charm, should he? Was all this something to do with his childhood in America, and did he have some deep secret that he didn't want to tell his daughters, but that his wife knew about?

Her thoughts were interrupted when Petunia came into the kitchen, looking disturbed. "What's going on?" she asked, though there was curiosity and concern in her question instead of the usual annoyance. "You ran out of here like a bat out of Hell and Dad looks like he's seen a ghost. What's the deal with that charm?"

"Has Dad told you anything about when he lived in America?"

"When he was young?" Petunia shook her head. "Why?"

"Nothing." Lily shook her head. "Help me with the tea."

* * *

><p>"Now, you two," Jen eyed her daughters sternly. "I want you to play nicely together while we're out."<p>

"Mum, we're not six!" whined Petunia. "We're perfectly capable of being left alone for a couple of hours!"

"Yes, well, you two haven't always played nicely for a few years now, so this is your chance to prove that you can be trusted to be here while we go out."

"Jen, come on," chuckled Nick. "Let's get going before you change your mind. I'm sure they'll be able to play nice today – it is Christmas, after all. Right, girls?"

"Yes, Dad," said Petunia.

Lily nodded. "Sure."

"Good." Jen kissed her daughters on the cheek (Petunia tried to squirm away). "See you later."

Once their parents had left, Petunia abruptly flopped into the windowseat and turned on the television. "Don't think I'm going to play anything with you, just because our parents said we had to, Lily."

"Fine with me," retorted Lily, and it was. Once her sister was engrossed in her programme again, Lily slipped out of the room and back upstairs to her parents' room. She picked up the chair that was leaning against the wall and stood on it, pulling open the cupboard door. The first thing that fell out was the book her father had been consulting earlier and she started to glance through it, her heart beating faster and faster the more she read. But at the same time, she could see something in the cupboard that kept catching her eye and nagging at her that it seemed familiar, so she turned round to look. What she saw made her drop the book on the floor and nearly fall off the chair in shock.

"Oh, my God."

* * *

><p><em>As always thanks for reading and reviewing! Love you - Ash :) xxx<em>


	16. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

"I'm gonna be late!" Dean piled his things on a trolley and then practically charged into the station and towards the barrier to get to the platform. "Crap, crap, crap, crap," he muttered; it was barely three minutes to eleven and he was terrified he was going to miss the train. He was so worried, in fact, that when he had passed through the barrier, he completely forgot to do what he should have done and make sure that there was no one in front of him as he charged for the train. The result of this was that he knocked over the person who was standing there and landed right on top of him.

"Oh, God, please don't let that be Malfoy," he muttered under his breath as he tried to untangle himself from the other person's set of robes.

"No, just me, though I'm a little insulted at being compared to that git," said an amused voice and Dean scrambled to his feet, feeling extremely relieved when he saw that it was only James smiling wryly back at him. "Hi, Dean."

"Hi." Dean blushed and scratched the back of his neck. "Er, yeah, sorry about –"

"Never mind, never mind." James stood up and waved his hand dismissively. "No time for that; have you seen the clock?"

Dean looked up. "Oh, crap!" he shouted, suddenly remembering why he had run smack into James in the first place. It was now barely seconds until eleven o'clock. "Come on!" he shouted, grabbing James's hand with one hand and his trolley with the other and practically dragging them both (as well as James's own trolley which he had quickly grabbed with his free hand) towards the train. They literally dropped their trunks and owl cages at the foot of the rather annoyed-looking driver, barely managing to gasp out an apology as they crashed through the train doors seconds before they closed.

"Woah," gasped James. "That was a close shave."

"Yeah." Dean straightened his jeans. "What were you doing so late?"

"My stupid owl decided to escape from her cage and go for a flight around the station," said James with a sigh. "The _Muggle _station."

"Oh, man." Dean barely managed to hold back his laughter. "Awkward."

"Oh, yes." James nodded. "Come on, let's go and find somewhere to sit." Without waiting for an answer, he rushed down the length of the carriage, leaving Dean trailing behind him. He pushed open a door to one of the compartments and started a little when he saw Sirius sat there with his head in a book. "Hi."

"Hi." Sirius didn't look up from his book or otherwise acknowledge any interruption.

James glanced at the book his friend was reading. "_The Hobbit_? Still trying to annoy your parents with Muggle books, Sirius?"

"And why not?" asked Dean, who had just come in. "Besides, it's a good book. I used to read it to Sammy when he was little. Every night, he'd tug on my arm and beg me for another chapter."

"What about when you finished it?" asked James.

"I read _Lord of the Rings _to him," said Dean with a shrug. "What else?"

"Oh." James nodded. "But, isn't your brother only about nine? I've not read the books myself, but from what I've heard, wouldn't he be a bit young for them?"

"Hey, he's really smart!" retorted Dean, his posture becoming defensive. "If he was here, he'd be the smartest out of all four of us!"

Sirius raised an eyebrow. "All right, all right, no need to yell." He had to admit, while he usually found Dean's open affection for his brother very touching, there were also times when it also frightened him a little.

Dean ignored the comment. "What are you even doing here, Sirius? I thought you were staying at Hogwarts for Christmas? You were so excited about it."

"I did stay at Hogwarts for Christmas," said Sirius, apparently realising he wasn't going to get any more reading time now that his friends had arrived. "But then I got a message from Andromeda saying that she wanted to see me. You know she's doing her Healer training?"

"Yeah." Dean's interest peaked a little more. "Hey, is that what she wanted? Was she going to show you all the gory secrets of the trade or give you remedies?"

Sirius laughed. "I wish," he said. "She spent most of the time showing me her latest project which seems to involve finding various ways to hack chicken embryos to pieces and stick their limbs in places they shouldn't be. Here." He pulled a stack of photographs out of his robes and dropped them in Dean's lap. "Have a look at some of these."

Dean wrinkled his nose as he looked at the mutated forms. "Okay, that's just weird. Why would anyone want to do something like that?"

"Andi said it was all in the name of research or something." Sirius shook his head, his long black hair dropping into his eyes. "It kind of killed my desire to be a Healer after that, really."

"I can see why." Dean tilted his head to look better at one of the pictures. "How does...actually, I don't even think I want to know how that one even _works_. What the hell was this person even researching, how many weird mutated creature things you can make by hacking bits of their bodies off and sticking them in other places?"

"I didn't ask," said Sirius, who looked rather green. "Can we please talk about something else now? I'm getting flashbacks of it all."

James laughed but before he could think of anything else to say, the compartment door opened and Lily stepped inside. "Dean, I've been looking for you," she said, ignoring James and Sirius. "I need to talk to you." She paused. "Alone."

"Nice to see you too, Evans," said James. "Enjoy your holiday? Or can I not even make any conversation with you any more?"

Lily bristled, but otherwise still gave no sign that she had heard him. "Dean?" she asked. "Please?"

"Okay." Dean nodded, ignoring James's crude suggestion of what they could be doing together, and followed his friend to an empty compartment. "What's up?"

Lily bit her lip. "I want to know," she said carefully, "about what I wrote to you about over Christmas. What I found in my dad's cupboard – what he's hiding from us and why my mum seems to know about it!"

Dean's stomach flipped over a little. He had to admit, he'd almost expected her to bring that up, but he hadn't thought it would be so quickly. "Lily," he said, choosing his words carefully, "if that stuff was hidden, your dad obviously didn't want you to see them and there's usually a reason for that."

"I know, I know," sighed Lily. "I know it was wrong, I get it. But I had to know, Dean. That was why I looked in the first place. Dad's been hiding all this stuff from me and from Tuney and it just seems to scare him so much." Her mout trembled a little and she dropped her voice. "Why didn't you reply to me when I wrote to you about this, Dean?"

"I'm sorry," said Dean, and he genuinely was. "But when you wrote to me...well, at first, I didn't really know what to think. I had a..._feeling_, I suppose, but I wasn't sure about it and I didn't want to go blasting in with something when it might not have been true. So, I called a...friend to see if he'd confirm what I thought."

"And?" Lily prompted.

Dean rubbed his face. "And he did." He sighed a little when he remembered the conversation over the Floo with Bobby and the way the older man had buried his face in his hands as he revealed the truth – a truth that now could have real consequences for his friend.

"Dean!" Lily nudged him with her elbow. "You're staring into space. What're you thinking?" She placed one hand gently over Dean's. "Why didn't you write back to me? What happened?"

"I..." Dean could barely stand to look at her, instead fixing his gaze on the frayed sleeve of his jacket. "I didn't want to tell you in a letter. I thought it would be better face to face, because...well, because you are not going to like it."

"Just tell me, Dean," said Lily, sounding a bit impatient, though a tendril of fear was sneaking through her heart. She wasn't sure what could be so bad that her friend looked so worried. "You're starting to scare me."

"Okay," said Dean quietly. "Well, I knew about a lot of the things you talked about in your letter. Well, actually, I didn't just know about them – I _used _some of them before I came here – and I saw Dad and Bobby use them too – and lots more 're hunter's tools, Lily."

"What are you saying?" asked Lily, her voice barely more than a whisper.

"Don't make me spell it out," pleaded Dean, but one look at the girl's face told him that she was waiting for exactly that. He groaned to himself; he had not wanted to be the one to have to tell her this. Anyone could have done it better – even his _father _could have done it better!

"Dean, please." Lily interrupted his thoughts. "Stop trying to avoid this and just tell me! It can't be that –"

"Your dad was a hunter."

As soon as he spoke, he wished he could have bitten his tongue out. Of all the ways to break the news to his friend, blurting it out was definitely _not_ the way he would have chosen.

Lily's mouth opened a little and her eyes grew wide. "No," she whispered. "No, he's not."

"You said yourself that you didn't know much about your dad's life in America, and that he didn't talk about it," said Dean. "Maybe he was trying to leave it behind when he came here." _Like we did_, he added silently, but decided to keep that thought to himself.

"I don't believe you," said Lily breathlessly. "If Dad was a hunter, I'd know!"

"Would you?" asked Dean quietly. "It's not generally something we try to advertise, especially once we've gotten out of the game."

Lily shook her head. "Why would you do this?" she asked. "Why would you tell me something like this? I thought we were friends – I thought I could trust you."

"We are friends!" exclaimed Dean. "Lily, I swear, it's the truth!" He reached for her hand, but she pulled away and sprang to her feet, tears shining in her eyes.

"I thought I could trust you," she choked. "But you're lying to me, just like _he_ is! This is just some stupid trick, isn't it? Like Potter and Black are always playing, God, I though you were better than them Dean, but apparently not!" She stormed out of the compartment, barely pausing to slam the door.

Dean stared after her, shocked. She thought he was lying? Surely, she knew him better than that; they might only have known each other a few months, but ever since the revelation that he had been involved in the life of a hunter, he had never been anything except honest with his friends (apart, obviously, from Remus's secret of course, but that was different). Besides, she knew probably better than his other friends what a sensitive topic his past was, considering that she'd been the first one to discover it.

"How could she?" he muttered under his breath. "Even if she didn't like it, doesn't she know better than to think that I would lie about something like this? Does she think that being a hunter is fun or something to joke about? God!"

He scowled and thumped the back of the seat irritably, still fuming. But to his annoyance, he found that he couldn't stay too angry with Lily; as much as her reaction had hurt, it was, in all honesty, fairly understandable given the situation. Instead, he realised that his feelings were directed more towards himself and his father. After all, hadn't John Winchester been in the same situation as Lily's own father, but ended up following a different path? Dean had to admit that, looking at things like that, he couldn't say he was too surprised that Nick Evans had been glaring so furiously at his father that day. They had both been in a common situation, yet they had mad such different choices and, ultimately, Dean realised he and Sam had paid the price for the choice that John had made.

Previously, Dean would have defended his father's actions almost to the end. He would have told anyone who spoke against him that while, they might not have had a normal life, the skills John had taught him and Sam had saved both their lives on several occasions. He would have told them that his father had only been doing what he had thought was right, or that there had not been a choice for him – but that, as soon as the demon had been killed, he had gotten them all as far out of the game as he could. But now, thinking about that defence, he felt shocked and saddened. Of course, he knew his father wanted revenge for the death of the woman he loved, but how could he have thought there had been no choice?

"No, Dad, there was a choice," he said, almost to the darkening sky outside the window, "there was always a choice."

He felt almost sick to his stomach at that thought. After all, hadn't he effectively done the same thing as his father when he had told Lily about _her _father's secret? He'd had a choice about what he should do and he'd chosen to tell her the truth – and in doing so, he had not only hurt their friendship, but there was also every chance that he had also ruined Lily's relationship with her father.

However much he tried to tell himself that he had done the right thing by telling her the truth, Dean just couldn't convince himself. He could have pretended that he didn't know anything and let her live in innocence for the time being, thereby also giving her father the chance to explain everything to her when, and if, he felt ready to do so.

"I'm just the same as Dad," he said out loud to the empty compartment. "I did something wrong and hurt someone I care about, all because I convinced myself that it was the only option – and now, I'm just as bad as he is!"

There had, of course, once been a time not too long ago when Dean would have been happy to have heard something like that. Having spent years being told how much he resembled his mother – and hating it – he would have given up almost anything to have been told differently. And yet, now that he could finally say that it had happened, he wanted nothing more than to take it back.

Dean laughed almost hysterically at the irony, dropping against the seat and running his hands over his face.

"God, Mom," he spluttered to the ceiling, almost as though he could see her there. "What the hell is _wrong _with our family?"

He spent the rest of the journey waiting for an answer – only moving to change into his robes as they approached Hogwarts – but nothing came from anywhere.

* * *

><p>"So, then she grabs for her wand, right there in the middle of St. Mungo's," said James, "and, quite calmly, really, she points it at her husband and turns his hair purple with silver dots! She then tells him that if he ever does that again, that won't be <em>all <em>she does it to."

Sirius gulped. "James, remind me to never piss your family off."

"Oh, but you should have seen her when she held the baby!" laughed James. "Speechless. Absolutely speechless, as my dad put it." He smiled dreamily. "She said that's always the way with new mums; when they see the baby, it's like the thing's made of sunshine and rainbows."

"Not so sure about that," chuckled Sirius. "More like brass bands with the noise they make sometimes." He nudged Dean with a grin. "Right?"

Dean jumped and looked around. "Sorry, what?"

James frowned. "Dean, what's up with you? You barely ate anything at dinner, and you've been in your own world since we got off the train."

"Sorry," muttered Dean. "I've just been thinking about my dad and...and wondering how like him I really am."

"What made you think of that?" asked Remus.

"I just," Dean stopped, scowled and shook his head. "Nothing."

Sirius raised an eyebrow at him. "Dean," he said gently, "did anyone ever tell you that you might have parental issues?"

Dean flushed and looked slightly offended. Remus choked out a laugh. "You're one to talk, Sirius; you have _family _issues, or at least issues with all of your family."

"That's not true," retorted Sirius, stung. "I have no issues with my cousin Andromeda, or my uncle Alphard."

"And that's two out of...how many, Sirius?" asked James.

"A lot," conceded Sirius, "a lot – but that still doesn't mean I have family issues!"

"Then thinking about his dad doesn't mean Dean has parent issues," said Remus, helping himself to a Chocolate Frog.

"Actually, it sort of does," said James. "Or at the very least it means he has issues with his dad."

"Well, considering what we know about his family, can you say you're surprised?" asked Sirius. "I'm pretty sure you'd have parental issues after all that, James."

"Er, guys?" Peter piped up. "Dean's gone."

Remus and Sirius looked around in surprise and noticed that Peter was right; their friend had disappeared. "Huh," said Sirius, frowning. "I wonder where he went?"

"Probably already scouting for pranking possibilities." James pretended to wipe away a tear. "We're teaching him so well..."

* * *

><p>"I do <em>not <em>have parent issues!" grumbled Dean as he stomped across the grounds. "I may have just been realising just how much of a _moron _my dad is and just how _messed up_ he made mine and Sammy's lives before we came here, but that does _not _mean that I have parental issues!"

He kicked moodily at some leaf mulch. "Every kid has some degree of crap in his or her life, doesn't mean they have _issues_! Well, obviously some of them do, but it doesn't mean..."

The words faded as he looked up and realised that he was surrounded by a maze of trees, their branches blowing almost threateningly in the wind. It was so dark and everywhere looked the same, with no way to tell how to get out. The entire place looked thoroughly unwelcoming – almost...forbidding...

Dean let out a loud groan. "You've got to be kidding me," he muttered. "I can't have been walking for that long, can I?"

A nudge at his hip made him turn around and he blinked several times when he saw what he at first thought was a very small pony, until he noticed that it was bright gold and seemed to make the floor shine. It raised its head slightly and Dean started when he caught sight of the small silvery-white nub just protruding from its forehead, making it clear that what stood in front of him was definitely _not _just a pony.

"Huh," he said, shaking his head. "I guess I'm going to owe Sammy an apology for that one." He cocked his head thoughtfully at the unicorn. "But you don't ride on silver moonbeams or poop rainbows, do you?"

The look he received in response could be described as nothing less than contemptuous. "Right, well, I'll take that as a no," he said with a laugh and held out his hand. The unicorn eyed him suspiciously for a few moments before it walked shakily over and pressed its nose against the flat of Dean's palm. "That's it," he whispered soothingly, "come here, boy..."

"Actually, I think that one's a girl."

Dean turned round, smiling a little when he saw Severus brushing leaves off his robes. "Hey," he said. "Did you have a nice Christmas?"

Severus shrugged. "Not bad," he said, also starting to pet the unicorn. "Quiet, really. How about you?"

"Yeah, pretty good, actually," said Dean. "Dad tried –" but suddenly, the unicorn cut him off by letting out a scared whimper and backing away to hide behind him. Dean frowned. "Hey, what is it?" he asked, glancing around in alarm, his hand immediately going for his wand.

It took him a few moments to focus on the gloom, but when he did, and he saw what had frightened the unicorn, he gasped and took a step back. "Woah!" he exclaimed. "I hope that's not your mom, little one."

Severus stared at him. "What're you looking at?"

"There." Dean pointed straight ahead to where the..._thing _was staring at him. "It's right there!"

"Where?" Severus followed Dean's finger and squinted into the darkness. "Dean, there's nothing there."

"But...but I can see it." Dean blinked several times – whatever the thing was, it was still there, only a few feet ahead of him. "It's looking right at me!" He turned desperately to his friend, who was watching him with something like alarm on his face. A faint feeling of panic began to build up in his chest. "I'm...I'm not crazy!" he almost shouted, painfully aware that he actually didn't sound entirely sane. "I'm not – it's right there!"

"What's right there, Dean?" asked Severus, grabbing Dean's hands. "What can you see?"

"It's," Dean frowned, "it's like a black horse, but it's so thin. It's got these huge wings, like they're made of leather or something." He suddenly shivered violently. "And those eyes...God, they're so white. When they...they look at me, I feel like...like I'm drowning in something."

"Oh." Severus nodded in understanding and gently tugged Dean out of the way. He pulled off his cloak and wrapped it around Dean's shoulders. "I know what that is."

"How?" whispered Dean. "If...if you can't see it...and why can I see it?" His knees trembled and he sank down onto the ground. The unicorn foal knelt beside him and nudged his arm gently, watching him with what could only be described as concern.

"It's a Thestral." Severus patted the foal absently on the head. "The only people who can see them...are people who have seen, and come to terms with, death."

"You mean...if you've seen someone die, you can see them?" asked Dean.

"Yes." Severus nodded. "They've got a bit of a nasty reputation from that, but from what I hear, they're fairly harmless, really. I heard they pull the carriages from the station."

"Yeah, well, I missed that one," said Dean absently. He looked back at the Thestral and watched it sniffing along the ground for something. "How much...how much death do you have to see before..."

"I don't know," admitted Severus. "I think it's more than just witnessing it; it's more that you have to accept that the person's gone, really." He slipped his hand into Dean's and squeezed it, wanting to ask his friend more, but knowing that now was definitely not the right moment. Instead, he shook his head and stood up, helping Dean to his feet. "Come on, we should be getting back."

"What?" asked Dean blinking a few times.

"Well, we don't want to be caught out here in the Forbidden Forest," said Severus with a short laugh. "I mean, I don't know about you, but I'd prefer to not get detention on the first night back."

"What for?" asked Dean absently, the shock of seeing the Thestral was making him a little stupid.

"Being out here when we shouldn't be?" Severus snapped his fingers in front of Dean's face. "You know, the Forbidden Forest? The clue's in the name, Dean."

"Right." Nodding, Dean let himself be led away from the Forest and back towards the castle. Once the warm lights were back in view, he could feel the chill that meeting the Thestral had left behind start to ease away, making him feel more relaxed. He let out a soft laugh and dropped Severus's cloak back around his friend's shoulders. "Well, time for bed now, I guess."

"Dean," Severus began, but when Dean turned round, he stopped, frowned and simply gripped his arm briefly. "Goodnight," he eventually said before he disappeared back towards the Slytherin common room.

"Night," said Dean vaguely, already turning to run up the stairs and back to Gryffindor Tower. Fortunately, James and the others had gone to bed so no one was around to ask him any questions. But halfway up the stairs to the dormitory, he stopped and turned, the hairs on the back of his neck prickling a little. Across the room, he could see Lily watching him, her large green eyes staring sharply at him, though when she realised that he was watching her, her jaw clenched and she quickly turned away from him. If looks could have killed, Dean knew he would have been buried, salted and burned at least twice over, but deep in her eyes there had also been, though carefully hidden, a look of betrayal.

* * *

><p><em>Author's Note: The part about hacking chicken embryos is in honour of a good friend of mine, who shall remain nameless, but who knows who she is! (Hey if you're going to make digs at my degree in your fic, I'm going to make digs at yours in mine!) <em>

_As always, thanks for reading and reviews are like gold dust! Ash xxx :)_


	17. Chapter 16

Hey, guys, I'm back! (yes, I'm still writing, it just takes time, because I get bursts of ideas and then periods where nothing comes, which is irritating with a capital I!) Just to let you know, I've decided that, for the sake of my sanity, I'm going to split what was originally going to be this one story into four - this one will cover up to the summer after the Marauders' second year, the second story will pick up at their third year and continue until summer before fifth year, with the third starting at fifth year and finishing the summer before sixth. The fourth will cover final year and the time after Hogwarts.

This means that I need some help with titles (I'm terrible with them, you wouldn't believe how long it took to come up with THIS one!), so if you think of any good ones, feel free to let me know!

Anyways, onward!

* * *

><p>Chapter 16<p>

Frank rubbed his eyes as, not for the first time, he found himself drifting off. Even though it wasn't exactly uncommon practice to fall asleep during History of Magic, he did try his best not to do so, because it was, in all truthfulness, one of the most interesting subjects a young witch or wizard could study.

Or, at any rate, it could have been an interesting subject had it been in the hands of anyone other than Professor Binns. Upon first learning that one of his classes would be taught by a ghost, Frank had been almost bursting with excitement. Surely, a ghost would have so many fascinating tales that would liven up the history. Frank knew only too well how much more thrilling it was to hear a first-hand account of a battle than to read a more distant or impersonal one written by a historian.

His excitement and anticipation had lasted right up until their first lesson, which had been only days after his Sorting. He had ignored the sympathetic glances he and his fellow first-years had received from the older students, thinking that they simply did not have the same level of interest in history as he did.

Looking back with the benefit of hindsight, Frank realised that he should have paid more attention to the fact that almost _every _student in their second year or above – including those in the other houses – had been so unenthusiastic about the lessons. But, despite all that, he had resolutely stayed optimistic as he and his fellow first-years had stepped into the classroom.

Of course, that enthusiasm had been extinguished with even more speed than Professor Binns entering the room through the blackboard. Within less than fifteen minutes, most of the class had been half asleep and the rest were absently drawing in the corner of their parchment or writing notes to their friends, probably in an effort to stay awake. As for Frank, he had spent most of the rest of the day trying to avoid the slightly teasing sympathy from the other Gryffindors; the Prewett twins in particular seemed to have taken a slightly perverse pleasure in his disappointment. In fairness to them, though, they had not been as bad as his mother who, according to his father, had laughed solidly for twenty minutes when she had heard the story. To add insult to injury, she had then sent him a letter saying, quite simply, "Don't say I didn't warn you."

Well, now Frank had been emphatically warned and, in an effort to make sure no one else was as unprepared as he had been, he had taken it upon himself to warn the new first-years what to expect. Of course, coming from pureblood families – and, presumably, having family members with a less twisted sense of humour than Frank's parents seemed to have – James and Sirius had nodded and said they knew that already. Peter had simply blinked, shrugged and wandered off, probably to spread the word; if there was one thing the plump little boy was useful for, it was spreading gossip.

Remus, however, had been in that curious place that was somewhere between knowing this already and being supremely disappointed about it. Apparently, he had hoped that the stories weren't true, something Frank could certainly relate to. Still, from what he had heard, Remus was keen on history as well, since he was the only one of the group of boys who had managed to find enough interest to take notes during all the lessons (as opposed to James and Sirius who apparently only managed to on occasion), something that the usually quiet boy could often by immensely smug about.

The most surprising reaction by far, however, had come from Dean, who had smiled wryly and commented that Sam would be terribly disappointed to hear how dull the lessons were. But that was not what had startled Frank so much. What had done _that _had been Dean's reaction to the news that a ghost was going to be teaching one of his classes. His eyes had widened almost to the size of Quaffles and he'd rushed out of the common room muttering something about rock salt.

At the time, Frank, like the rest of the first-years, hadn't had the slightest idea what had triggered such a response, or what the deal with the rock salt was. Of course, the later revelation about Dean's past had helped to explain that, but still, no one was quite sure what had happened that had stopped the hunter from actually trying to exorcise the professor.

_It might have been an improvement if he had, _he thought. _Dumbledore'd have had to find a decent teacher._

"What's that, Frank?"

Frank blinked, startled. He hadn't realised that he had, in fact, spoken out loud, or that Sean Robson had been awake enough to be listening. Smiling sheepishly, at his confused friend, he answered. "It's nothing. I was just thinking aloud, really, but it wasn't about anything that interesting."

"Something you want to share with the rest of the class, Mr Lethbridge?"

The low, slightly rumbling, voice made Frank shudder and he looked up into Binns's pale, almost opalescent, eyes which were watching him with an intensity that he had to admit seemed wrong for a dead person. Fortunately, before he could come up with an appropriate response, the bell rang and he quickly joined the rush of his classmates packing their bags, though he could feel the ghost's eyes watching him the whole time as the students filed out of the room.

Once away from the classroom, however, Frank exploded. "It's unbelievable! He can't even manage to get my bloody name right or keep a class awake, but that?" He smacked his fist against his bag. "_That _he hears?"

"It's the way teachers are, though," Sean replied, shaking his head. "They never hear things you tell them, but they will always seem to pick up on things you would never want them to know." He dropped his voice as they entered the Great Hall. "Seriously, my mum's a teacher and she swears that all her co-workers have their ears on stalks trying to catch things that the kids shouldn't be saying."

"Seriously?!" spluttered Frank, his eyes widening. "What?" he asked at his friend's raised eyebrow. "Look where we are, you never know."

"It's a Muggle school," answered Sean.

Frank blinked. "Oh." He frowned and shook his head. "Maybe not there, then."

"Yes, you tend to stick out in Muggle places if you literally have ears on stalks," laughed Sean, pulling Frank into a seat at the Gryffindor table.

"Or maybe you're wrong," interjected James, who Frank hadn't even realised had been listening. "And maybe they're all using that Polyjuice Potion stuff to hide the fact that they're really dark wizards secretly spying on all the Muggle schools so they can usurp them."

Sean's mouth dropped open and even Frank felt a chill in his stomach at the younger boy's words. He knew James wasn't being serious, but he still wasn't sure he liked the sound of that at all.

Groaning, Sirius smacked James on the arm. "Does everything with you have to be a bloody conspiracy theory?"

James shrugged. "It could happen."

"Could it, really?" squeaked Peter in alarm. "Could it happen?"

"Of course not," snapped Sirius, but he wasn't sure he felt as confident as he probably sounded. He knew James had only been kidding around when he had spoken, but he truthfully didn't think it was all that unbelievable. Growing up in what had to be one of the darkest wizarding families in Britain had taught Sirius that nothing could be taken for granted, even a comment made as a joke.

Fortunately, before the situation could escalate any further, Professor McGonagall approached their table. "Ah, Black and Potter," she said with a pointed glare, "you will be doing your detention this evening."

"Tonight?" yelped James. "But I wanted to go out and watch the Quidditch practice!"

He probably should have realised that this had not been the correct response, because Professor McGonagall's mouth thinned even more than it already was. "Well, I'm sorry to cause a conflict in your schedule, Potter," she said. "As I said – this evening."

"What are we doing, Professor?" asked Sirius, trying to hide his own disappointment. He had also wanted to watch the Quidditch practice – he hoped he might get some hints for his tryout the following year – but he knew that arguing would not make any professor change her mind, let alone their Head of House, and would probably only make things worse for them.

If Professor McGonagall was surprised by Sirius's apparent politeness, she didn't show it. Instead, she answered "You will both be cleaning and mopping the Great Hall."

"Both of us together?" asked James. "You mean you're not going to separate us?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, Potter, I must have forgotten to mention that you will not be using magic," she said dryly. "But if you want me to separate you, then one of you can do the Great Hall and the other can do the dungeons." She paused. "_All _of them."

"No!" James and Sirius shouted simultaneously.

"Good!" Professor McGonagall clapped her hands together. "Then I will see you tonight at seven o'clock sharp. That should give you plenty of time to at least make a start on your Transfiguration homework." With that, she turned and stalked out of the Hall.

Frank whistled. "What did you do?" He stopped and shook his head. "Actually, no – what did you get _caught _doing? This time," he hastily clarified.

"We were trying to charm all the suits of armour to change colour every ten seconds," said James. "It...didn't quite work out according to plan."

"That would be one way of putting it," said Sirius. "Another way would be that it went spectacularly wrong."

"You mean _psychedelically _wrong," corrected Dean, speaking for the first time since Frank had come in.

"Well, yes, that too," agreed Sirius. "Since we managed to get it so wrong that every brick in the corridor changed to a different colour every _two _seconds."

"Apparently, the final effect was rather nausea-inducing, according to McGonagall," said James.

"Huh." Frank nodded. "Right. Two questions; firstly, how did you manage to mess that up so badly, and secondly, how come Dean's not ended up in detention too? No offence, Dean, but you're nearly as bad as those two are."

"Like you're not!" scoffed Dean.

Sirius shook his head. "Not sure about the first question – we're waiting for Remus to look into it – but Dean wasn't actually involved this time," he said. "He was the one we were trying to cheer up!"

"Which, really, does make it your fault," joked James, nudging Dean with his arm.

"Hey, I didn't ask you to do it!" protested Dean with a pout. "You made that choice yourself!"

"Well, you were so grumpy after that stuff with –" began James, but he broke off when Sirius kicked him sharply underneath the table. He turned to glare at his friend, but when he saw the matching glare Sirius was wearing, he nodded. "All that stuff," he finished lamely.

Frank shook his head. "I'm not going to ask," he said, but he did notice that Dean was glancing up the table towards where Lily was sitting with some of her friends and a sad look passed briefly over his face. He frowned slightly, knowing that the two had had some sort of falling out, but not what had passed between them. Apparently, though, Sirius knew more of the story, because he was watching Dean with a worried frown on his usually mischievous face. Peter had clearly noticed nothing out of line, because he was busy eating, for which, for once, Frank was thankful; if Peter had known the full story, it would probably have been all over Hogwarts by now, and he had a feeling Dean wouldn't have liked that and neither would Lily.

The younger boy, at that moment, seemed to realise someone was watching him, because he shook his head and turned around, offering Sirius a bright smile. Sirius looked at him for a moment as though he wanted to say something, but instead he nodded and went back to his conversation with James. Frank couldn't help but frown, though, something which, to his dismay, did not go unnoticed. Dean glanced around and immediately his eyes narrowed.

"What're you looking at?" he snapped, though he seemed more unsettled than annoyed and his hands shook a little as he reached for his goblet of pumpkin juice.

Frank shrugged. "Nothing," he said and quickly went back to his own food, trying to ignore the way the Marauders were staring sharply at him. He was very grateful when Sean nudged him and started asking him something about their Charms homework which was due in the next day.

* * *

><p>"You know, I thought that the one good thing about this detention was that we'd at least get something interesting to look at with the ceiling!" huffed James as he leaned against his mop. "I suppose it only stands to reason that McGonagall would put a stop to that."<p>

"Yeah." Sirius cast his eyes upwards towards the ceiling as though he was silently willing it to do something other than stick to its shades of dull grey. "But I bet Dumbledore did it, he's more powerful, so he could control anything, probably! And anyway, it's detention, so it's not meant to be fun or interesting."

James groaned. "Strop being all reasonable, you sound like Remus," he said, "which is just strange. And hey!" He jabbed the handle of his mop at his friend. "It was your idea to do something crazy that got us into this mess in the first place!"

"Excuse me?" Sirius arched an eyebrow, looking so imposing all of a sudden that James actually backed away. "Did you remember whose idea it was to do that particular spell – and _without Remus_?"

James scowled and jammed his mop so hard into the bucket that water splashed over the sides and formed a large puddle that soaked the bottom of his robes and his shoes. He swore and sat down on the floor with a shout of "I give up!"

Sirius laughed and sat down beside him. "Hey," he said, "I have an idea."

"What?" asked James sullenly and without much interest.

Instead of answering, Sirius pointed his wand at the two mop buckets. "_Engorgio,_" he said and they both grew until they were more than four times the size they had previously been. "_Geminio_."

That woke James up enough for him to begin to pay attention. "What in Merlin's name –"

"_Aguamenti_!" was the only answer he got Sirius magically filled all four buckets with water until they were nearly brimming over. Then, with a cheeky wink, he stepped up to the mops. "Watch this."

"Watch what?" asked James, curious despite himself.

Instead of answering, Sirius turned back to the mops. "_Geminio_!" he shouted with much more force than he had when he had cast the spell on the buckets. The result was that, instead of the mops only duplicating once, they continued to do so until there were –

James blinked. _No way. _"Sirius," he said slowly, "what are you planning on doing with," he quickly counted again, just to make sure, "_a hundred mops and four oversized buckets_?"

"This." Sirius waved his wand and spoke quietly, too quietly for James to hear him. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, a jet of bright blue light shot from his wand and hit the mops.

James shot to his feet in alarm as, simultaneously, they flew into the air, landed in the buckets and began to clean the floor. "Sirius," he said slowly, "where did you learn _that_?"

"Another little trick Andi taught me," said Sirius, leaning against the wall. "Sorry, though, it's kind of a family secret, so I can't tell you it."

James gaped. "You used one of your family's –"

"A family secret only the non-crazy members of the Black family are allowed to know," amended Sirius. "I think Uncle Alphard taught it to Andi and then she taught it to me."

"Huh," said James. Then he laughed. "But I bet she didn't teach it to you so you could use it to make a detention easier."

"Probably not." Sirius shrugged. "But I won't tell if you won't."

"Deal." James leaned against the wall. "So, what do you think's going on?"

"With what?"

"With Dean, of course. He's been quiet lately and he keeps staring at Evans. It's odd. Hey," he dropped his voice, "you don't think he...you know, do you? You don't think he..._likes _her?"

Sirius stared at his friend. "What?" he spluttered. "Where are you getting that?! It's ridiculous! They may be friends, but he's a Marauder and when all is said and done, Lily Evans hates the Marauders!"

James frowned. "You know something, don't you? But you're not going to tell me what it is."

"No." Sirius shoved his hands into his pockets. "No, I'm not."

"But why?" James was almost pouting.

"Because Dean doesn't know that I know," said Sirius. "And the way that I found out means that it really wasn't something that I was meant to know."

* * *

><p><em>Sirius came out of the toilets, straightened his clothes and waved cheerily to the Prewett twins who grinned broadly when they saw him.<em>

"_New term, Sirius!" Fabian called out to him. "Ready to get started on some more mischief?"_

"_When I am, you'll know!" laughed Sirius. He winked at them and turned away – and immediately ran into someone coming from the opposite direction._

"_Sorry," he said, but then he got a proper look at who it was and his face twisted into a glare. "Snape."_

_The Slytherin boy snorted. "Nice to see you too, Black," he said, picking himself up. "I see you haven't changed, still as much of a bully as ever."_

"_And I see you're just as greasy as ever," retorted Sirius. "Really, would it kill you to invest in some decent shampoo?" _

_Snape's hand twitched towards his pocket, but then he scoffed and shook his head. "You're not worth me getting into trouble before the term's even started," he said. "But perhaps you've seen Dean or Lily?"_

_To his surprise – and probably for the only time – Sirius found he didn't fancy a fight either. "They went off together," he said stiffly; just because he didn't want a fight, he wasn't obliged to be friendly. "Lily said she wanted to talk to Dean about something."_

"_Huh." Snape shrugged and walked back the way he had come. Sirius hesitated for a moment before following at a slight distance – with the result that, when Snape stopped abruptly, Sirius nearly ran into his back. He was about to tell him off when he caught the reason why Snape had stopped as he heard Lily's voice._

"_Dean, please." She sounded partly annoyed and partly desperately pleading. "Stop trying to avoid this and just tell me! It can't be that –"_

"_Your dad was a hunter."_

_Sirius swayed back and gripped the wall in shock. "What?" he whispered. "Did...did Dean just say –"_

"_Shhh!" spat Snape, but Sirius could see that he had heard exactly the same words and had been equally unnerved by them._

"_You said yourself you didn't know much about your dad's life in America," Dean was saying now, "and that he didn't talk about it. Maybe he was trying to leave it behind when he came here."_

"_I don't believe it!" shouted Lily, her anguished voice making both boys outside flinch. "If Dad was a hunter, I'd know!"_

_Despite himself, Sirius felt a hint of sympathy for Lily; he knew that if he had just been given that news, he would not have taken it well. It had to have been a shock for her and he knew that she was hurt that her father had not been honest with her._

"_Would you?" asked Dean, so quietly that Sirius nearly missed it. "It's not something we try to advertise, especially once we've gotten out of the game."_

_Lily replied with something else, but Sirius felt that he had heard enough and that his friends would be wondering what was taking him so long. Slowly, he walked away, but he had barely gone a metre away from the carriage when Snape grabbed his arm and turned him round to face him._

"_If you value your friendship with Dean," he said, "you mustn't tell anyone what we just heard."_

_At any other time, Sirius might have punched Snape at that point, but he didn't. He knew that the other boy was right. So, instead, he said, "I won't tell, but you'd better not either. Agreed?"_

_Snape briefly made a face that seemed to suggest a bad smell, but he nodded. "Agreed," he said. "But I'm doing this for them," he jerked his thumb backwards, "not for you."_

"_Well, you needn't have thought I was doing it for you," returned Sirius. "So, as far as I'm concerned, this _never _happened. Clear?"_

"_Crystal." Snape pushed past him and walked away, his robes flowing behind him._

_Sirius shook his head and slowly made his way back to join his friends. He quickly switched on a smile as he opened the door. "Hi."_

_James stared at him as he dropped back into his seat. "Where've you been?" he asked. "We were about to come and look for you."_

"_Sorry," muttered Sirius. "There was a queue. Evidently, someone does not like train travel."_

"_Right." James turned a little green. "Point taken."_

"_Are you sure?" asked Sirius with a wicked grin. "Because I could go into details."_

"_Please don't," said Remus. "Pete might lose his breakfast."_

"_And that wouldn't be a nice sight," said Peter._

_Sirius laughed and leaned back, trying to get involved with the conversation, even though his heart was pounding so hard he was surprised no one else could hear it._

* * *

><p>"Sirius." James's voice brought him out of his thoughts. "Sirius!"<p>

"Yeah?"

"When your cousin gave you this 'secret spell'," James fixed him with a pointed look, "did she, by any chance, give you the spell to stop it?"

"What?" asked Sirius, blinking a few times – and, at the same time, becoming aware that the bottom of his robes were soaking wet. Alarmed, he looked up – and almost fainted at the sight in front of him.

The mops seemed to be going completely out of control. Instead of sensibly cleaning the floor, they now seemed intent on creating as much chaos as was possible. The buckets were being tipped over and automatically refilled (Sirius hadn't realised that this was an effect of his spell), but the cleaning, if it could still be called that, still refused to stop, flooding the floor more and more by the minute.

"I tried _Finite Incantatem _twice!" said James. "But that happened. Sirius – what's the counter-spell?"

"I don't," Sirius gulped as the reality of the situation began to hit him, "I don't know. Andi never told me."

"And you never thought to ask?" yelped James. "Are you serious?"

"It's what my ever loving parents called me."

"_Sirius_!" shouted James. "What are we going to do?" He waved his hand around the room. "We apparently can't fix this on our own!"

"Well," Sirius closed his eyes, "I think there's only one thing we can –"

"No!" James shook his head so hard, his hair bounced everywhere. "We can't do that, she'll know we used magic when we weren't supposed to!"

"I think the dancing mops and the flood in here will tell her that anyway!" snapped Sirius. "Come on, let's get out of here before we drown."

James sighed as his friend splashed and stumbled towards the door. "If we get into trouble for this, I'm blaming it on you, Sirius Black," he grumbled as he followed his friend and dodged the mops and buckets that were now rolling on top of the rapidly deepening water. He had almost reached the , u himself when an unexpectedly large wave caught up with him and knocked him over. He garbled out a selection of rather uncomplimentary phrases as he reached out for something to grab onto, only to be pushed under again. Of course, he did know how to swim, but his waterlogged robes were making it very difficult to control his strokes. But, somehow, he managed to keep the blurred figure of Sirius in his sight.

"Oh, Merlin!" exclaimed Sirius. Barely even stopping to think, he pulled his robes over his head, kicked off his shoes and jumped into the water, paddling as hard as he could to reach his friend.

"I've got you," he panted as he grabbed James by the wrist and started pulling him back towards the door, grimacing a little at the effort. "Merlin's beard, James, you need to eat less!"

James garbled out something that could only have been an insult, but Sirius ignored it and persevered until he reached the door. "Do not let go of my hand!" he shouted over the rushing water as he pulled on the handle. The door creaked a little, but Sirius kept pushing until it opened enough to let them both through and they tumbled into the entrance hall in the midst of a cascade of water.

He coughed and spluttered, wringing water out of his hair and turned to James, who was gasping for breath and panting. "Are you okay?"

"My...my glasses," croaked James. "I've lost my glasses."

Sirius started to say something, but he heard footsteps coming down the hall and groaned instead. "If that's Snivellus come to tease us, I'm going to drown him in –"

"Woah." It wasn't Snape, but Dean, who had suddenly arrived and he was staring around with wide eyes, Peter beside him, bouncing from foot to foot. "What the hell happened?"

"Detention," said James.

Dean frowned. "Right. And how did detention turn into a scene from _Fantasia_?"

"What's _Fantasia_?" asked Sirius.

"Muggle thing."

"Just get McGonagall," gasped James, scrambling to his feet. "I need my glasses."

"That won't be necessary, Potter," said a sharp voice, and Professor McGonagall arrived, her mouth thinning almost into invisibility as she took in the scene before her. She did not say a word, but whipped out her wand and blasted it in the direction of the Great Hall. Sirius yelped and covered his face as a white ball of light shot towards the flooded room. When he finally lowered his hands, he saw her stood in front of him holding his wet robes, James's glasses and both their wands.

"Right," she said. "Now that's all done – apart from being wet, are either of you hurt at all?"

"No, Professor," said Sirius.

"I'm fine," said James, taking his glasses when they were offered to him.

"Good." Professor McGonagall folded her arms. "Now. Explain."

* * *

><p>"I can't believe we only lost ten points over that!" laughed James as he flopped into a chair by the fireplace. "Seriously, when you get the counter-spell off your cousin, we are definitely trying that again!"<p>

"Actually, we lost _forty _points over it," said Sirius. "I just managed to win back thirty for saving your life and for the 'ingenuity of the spell', apparently."

"Okay," said James, "seriously. _Stop channelling Remus. _It's weird." He polished his glasses on his robes. "But thanks for saving me there."

"Oh, come on, I was hardly going to let you drown!" scoffed Sirius. "Besides, at least McGonagall dried us off before she sent us off and she didn't give us another detention."

"She probably thought the mess we got ourselves in was punishment enough," mused James before he changed the subject. "So, you're really not going to tell me what's going on with Dean and Lily?"

"I'm really not," said Sirius. "Like I said, I wasn't even meant to know about it, so if I said something, what do you think Lily would suspect if she found out we both knew?"

"She'd think Dean told us," sighed James.

"Exactly." Sirius nodded. "Which would just make things worse for him."

James rolled his eyes. "Have I told you that I hate it when you're being sensible?"

"Many times. But seriously, Lily's being unfair enough to Dean as it is. Think how she'd react if she found out I knew about it."

"All right, fine," huffed James. He stared miserably into the fire for several minutes before a wicked grin started to spread over his face. "Hey...do you think we could do something to get her back? Marauders look out for their own, after all."

Sirius grinned. "What did you have in mind?"

* * *

><p><em>Thanks for reading and reviews are loved! :) Also, if you have any ideas for future Marauder pranks that you might want to see in this story or any of the future ones, let me know! :) Ash xxx<em>


	18. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

"James, go to the left," whispered Sirius. "Remus, to the right. Pete, you just," he stopped and thought, "you just stay where you are and don't do anything silly – unless we tell you to."

Peter blushed but nodded. "Got it," he said, but it came out sounding more like "God it," because he unfortunately had caught a very heavy cold that not even Pepperup Potion could shift.

James grimaced a little, but instead he said, "Okay, Remus?"

"Yes." Remus nodded and placed a small tower of multi-coloured streamers in each person's hands, ready to be blown at the opportune moment. "This is going to be good," he said, feeling oddly excited. He did, however, refuse to speculate on what was causing him to feel like that.

"It'd better be good," muttered James, "it was your idea."

Remus nodded, latching onto that answer since it was infinitely preferable to the truth. "That's exactly why it's going to be good," he said. "I actually think things through better than you do."

Sirius let out a bark of laughter. "You can't really argue with that, James," he said.

"No, I suppose you can't," answered James, albeit a little more grudgingly than Sirius thought was necessary.

"Besides," continued Remus, "the only things we'll be using are right here in our hands with no spells and no other capacity for anything to go wrong. So, the only mess left here will be made of paper. It's completely foolproof."

"Even...even for me?" asked Peter, nervously suppressing a sneeze.

"Yes, Pete," said Sirius. "Even for you." _I hope_, he silently added.

"Well, rather than talking about it, why don't we maybe get on with this?" suggested James.

Sirius nodded. "Right. And...four."

"Three," said Peter.

"Two," came from Remus.

As soon as the word "One!" passed James's lips, the four Marauders raised their streamers and blew as hard as they could. As the coloured paper flew around them, cheerful music began to fill the room, making it, not for the first time, very fortunate that there was no one else there who could be disturbed by the noise.

A pair of sleepy green eyes blinked up at them from under the covers and a slightly irritated voice growled out, "What's with all the noise?"

"Now!" cried James and led the others in a rousing chorus of 'Happy Birthday', which made an interesting contrast with the melodious tune that the magical streamers were making.

Sirius laughed and launched himself across the bed, enveloping the birthday boy in a tight hug. "Happy birthday, Dean!" he shouted, so loudly that everyone, even James, covered their ears.

Dean, however, blinked and sat up, rubbing his eyes. "It's my birthday?"

"Well, it is January the twenty-forth," said Remus. "So, yes, it's your birthday.

"Where did the month go?" murmured Dean as he tried to untangle himself from Sirius.

"Well," said James, pretending to think, "you see, there's this bright thing called the sun that moves through the sky –" but he was silenced by a pair of arms pulling him onto the bed – whether they belonged to Dean or Sirius, he couldn't say – and hitting him with a pillow.

Peter laughed out loud, but it was quickly interrupted by a sneeze. Still, Remus, who was grinning almost manically, grabbed his arm and dragged him onto the bed where he proceeded to join in with tickling anyone he could reach.

"Stop...stop it!" shrieked Dean, tears of laughter running down his flushed face. "I can't breathe – stop it!" Of course, he was rather enjoying it, really, and he knew that his friends were aware of that. If he hadn't have been, they all knew he could easily have stopped them.

Eventually, though, the shenanigans were brought to a stop by the sound of a door being slammed shut. Sirius gulped, expecting to see one of the Gryffindor prefects or, worse, Professor McGonagall come to tell them off for disturbing everyone or something. But, in fact, it was Gideon and Fabian, both with their hands full of streamers and looking tired, but amused.

"Someone's birthday?" asked Fabian, barely keeping back his laughter.

"His!" shouted James, pulling Dean upright. "It's his birthday today!"

"Is it indeed?" Gideon smirked a little. "Well, many happy returns, my lad," he said.

Dean grimaced. "Don't use that old man voice," he said. "You sound like my dad. It's weird."

Fabian looked aghast. "Did you hear that?" 

"I did indeed," answered Gideon. "We certainly can't have that, now can we?"

"Definitely not." Fabian grinned. "James and Sirius? Care to help us out with something?"

The two black-haired boys looked at each other. Then, their faces split into identical grins and they leapt off Dean's bed. "James Potter!" said James."

"And Sirius Black..." continued Sirius.

"At your service!" they both chorused, bowing to the twins

"Excellent," said Fabian, slinging his arm around James. "Shall we, brother of mine?"

"Indeed." Gideon clasped Sirius on the shoulder. "Let's go."

Peter, evidently not noticing or not caring that the invitation had not been extended to him, rushed out after them shouting, "Wait for me!"

Remus shook his head and chuckled. "Well, that was...a little unusual."

"Hmm," said Dean, "I guess it was." He stretched out across his bed and then, before Remus could react, something cool and wet splashed over his face. "But then again, whose standards is it unusual by?"

"Right now, anyone's." Remus wiped his hands over his face and glared at the flask Dean was holding. "Was there a reason you decided to drench me in holy water? Only we've already established that it doesn't work for me."

He had to swallow a stab of sadness at that memory. Shortly after discovering his secret, Dean had told him that, due to the way in which it had been created, a certain strain of lycanthropy had a weakness to holy water and salt. This meant that if someone was infected by that particular strain, they could be cured by being doused in holy water or salt water. Unfortunately, when they had tried this themselves, it had turned out that Remus had been infected by another type which had come from a curse and was therefore not affected by these factors and so the attempt at a cure had not worked. Obviously, Dean had made sure from the start that Remus was aware that there had been a very low chance of their theory panning out, but Remus still hadn't been able to hide his disappointment at the result.

Dean sighed. "You were acting overly excited," he said simply. "It just wasn't like you."

"Oh," said Remus. "So you had to check I wasn't possessed." He supposed it made sense, considering Dean's history, but the part of him that was cold and wet was still rather annoyed.

But Dean didn't answer. Instead, he fixed Remus with a sharp look. "It's the wolf, isn't it?"

"Shh!" gasped Remus. "What if someone hears you?"

"There's no one in here," said Dean. "But all right, if you're worried," he pulled out his wand. "_Imperturbatus_."

Remus blinked. "You know the –"

"Imperturbable Charm? Yeah, I overheard one of the Ravenclaw third-years talking about it." Dean pocketed his wand. "So – is it the wolf?"

"Yeah." Remus didn't see any point in denying it and, in fact, it was almost a relief to admit it after being forced to keep quiet for so long. "Sometimes, I have a bad...change, you know?" Dean nodded. "Well, the wolf can be more aggressive than usual for a while afterwards, like it just can't settle down. Sometimes it makes me a bit...excitable." He laughed tiredly. "Sorry if that scared you."

Dean scooted over to sit next to Remus. "Is there any way to make the transformations easier for you so this doesn't happen?"

"Well, stress doesn't tend to help, which, of course, begs the question of why I'm friends with you lot," said Remus, but he was laughing which took a lot of the sting out of his words.

Dean had to bite his tongue hard so he wouldn't admit that he sometimes wondered the same thing. "Is there," he hesitated, "is there something –"

"Something you can do?" Remus shrugged. "I don't know. Can you change things so that this doesn't happen to me every month? Is there a way to change what I have to the type that would've been cured with holy water?"

Dean sighed. "No."

"Then, no, I don't think you can," said Remus. "But thanks for asking."

"Maybe one day then," murmured Dean, playing with his duvet. "Maybe one day."

"Don't worry," said Remus. "I'll be fine in a day or so and back to happily finishing essays and puzzles and making sure you lot don't get into too much trouble."

"And enjoying it for real, too."

Remus burst out laughing. "Yeah, that as well." He stretched out a little and checked his watch. "Okay, we'd better get dressed. Regardless of it being your birthday or me having a rough few days, we can't stay up here all day, as much as we'd probably like to."

Dean snorted, but crawled out of bed and quickly dressed himself, keeping his back to Remus. He wasn't exactly trying to be modest – sharing a dormitory with four other boys had cured what little of that had been left after sharing motel rooms with Sam and his father for so long – but it was more because he knew that Remus wouldn't want him to see the new scars on his body. In fairness, Dean himself wasn't too keen on other people seeing _his _body either; he didn't want the questions that he knew would come if anyone saw the various scars and marks hunting had left on him.

Once dressed, they stepped down into the common room, Remus intending to read and Dean to finish off the tail end of an Astronomy essay. But they had barely managed to get themselves seated when the portrait hole opened and James and Sirius came in with the Prewetts. Sirius had something in his hands which, when Remus squinted, turned out to be a large chocolate cake with twelve lit candles on top. James, however, grinned and rushed up to the dormitory, only to come down apparently empty-handed.

Gideon dropped down beside Remus. "We sent Peter to the hospital wing," he said. "The sniffling and sneezing was starting to get annoying and a bit disgusting."

"We'll save him some," said Sirius with a shrug. "Goodness knows there's going to be enough."

"Yeah, speaking of which," Dean waved his hand towards the cake. "Where, when and how?"

"Kitchen, two weeks ago and house-elves," replied James. "But these come first." Then, seemingly out of nowhere, he revealed a silvery-looking cloak and dropped it almost nonchalantly onto the arm of the sofa where it landed in a shimmering heap.

"What...what," spluttered Dean, completely ignoring the small pile of brightly wrapped presents on the table in front of him, "what's that?"

"That?" James glanced dismissively at the fabric. "Oh, it's nothing just an Invisibility Cloak." He was obviously trying to maintain a straight face, but Remus did notice that he couldn't hide the beginnings of a smirk when Sirius's eyes nearly popped out of his head. "Oh, yeah, Dad gave it to me when I went home for Christmas. Didn't I tell you?"

"James...James..." Sirius licked his lips, "do you – do you know what we could do with this? We could do anything – go anywhere and...and," he paused, almost breathless at the possibilities, "_never get caught_!"

An explosion of chattering suddenly filled their corner as the twins, James, Sirius and Dean all began to feverishly speculate on what they could now do with this tool to aid their mischief-making. Despite the feeling of excitement brewing inside him, however, Remus did not join in, but instead he decided to simply smile and listen for now. He didn't feel very comfortable with the way his heart was racing when he couldn't tell if the feelings were his own or the wolf's.

Eventually, though, when one of the suggestions he heard centred around some rather inappropriate spying, he decided to intervene. "Okay, okay – as funny as this is, doesn't the birthday boy have some presents he needs to open?"

Dean looked around, apparently having only just noticed this. "You didn't have to –"

"Rubbish," interrupted Sirius, "we were hardly going to forget your birthday, were we? Here," and he thrust one of the parcels into his friend's lap. "Open mine."

Dean rolled his eyes, but he smiled and undid the wrapping. Out tumbled a box which rattled a little as he picked it up. "Wizard Chess?"

"Like Muggle chess," explained Sirius, "but the pieces move where you tell them to."

"So, they're basically living chess pieces?" spluttered Dean, quickly setting the box on the table. A group of muffled voices made vague protests at the motion. "Okay, that's vaguely creepy."

"They also talk," continued Sirius. "And, let me tell you, if they think you're making a bad move, they don't have any problems telling you that you're an idiot."

"Speaking from experience?" asked Remus.

"Yep," said Sirius wryly. "Strangely enough, not many people in my family were all that keen to associate with their black sheep and they must have warned the other families we knew against the same thing as well. The result? Only Andy and my Uncle Alphard would play with me. It didn't end well, as far as I was concerned."

"I'll play you," said Dean automatically. "Hey, even if you're as bad as you seem to be saying you are, at least I can say I beat you when I've never played before." He smiled innocently and ducked when Sirius threw a cushion at him.

Remus and James had both decided to get him sweets – an interesting selection of wizarding chocolates from Remus, ranging from Chocolate Frogs to something sophisticated-looking that changed colour and flavour every few seconds, and a large box of Every-Flavour Beans from James, at which point Dean declared that he was going to send the "weird flavours" to Bobby.

"Not to Sam and your dad?" asked Sirius.

"Nah, I did that with the last lot we had," said Dean, snickering. "I think it's Uncle Bobby's turn to experience the flavour of tuna in a jelly bean." He wrinkled his nose in disgust; he'd never been able to think about eating tuna again after that.

"But surely your dad will have warned him about them when you sent them to him?" wondered Remus.

"Possibly," said Dean with the air of one who didn't really care. "But having lived on Bobby's cooking for long periods, I doubt it. I'm not even sure Bobby'll notice some of them, really. I love the man, but last time I saw him, his skill at the stove was nearly as bad as Dad's, and considering Dad doesn't know how to work a microwave..."

Sirius, who had been laughing at Dean's comment, was a little confused when he trailed off, but when he looked up and saw Lily coming towards them with a rather ruffled-looking owl in her hands, some of his amusement faded; she was approaching Dean with a cool look on her face, though she was barely actually looking at him.

"Hendrix!" exclaimed Dean, "What –"

"He came into our dorm," said Lily, still not looking at him. "Dropped a letter on my bed and pecked me until I picked him up and told him I'd take him to you." She dropped the owl – and the parcel attached to his leg – into Dean's lap.

"You're being a little rude, you know, Evans," said Sirius. "Didn't your parents tell you to look at someone when you're talking to them?"

Lily's cheeks reddened slightly. "I didn't come over here for a chat," she said stiffly. "I only came to give Dean his owl back, along with, I presume, his birthday present from his family." With a quick nod towards Remus, she stalked off without another word.

Sirius growled. "All right, that's it." He leapt up and grabbed Lily's arm. "Look, whatever's going on with you and Dean – enough is enough!" He held up a hand as Lily, her face contorting slightly with anger, moved to speak. "Don't even think about telling me it's none of my business. If it involves one of my friends, it definitely _is _my business."

"Sirius, it's okay," said Dean quietly. "Let's just go and get some breakfast."

"No, Dean, it's not okay," said Sirius. "She's been really unfair to you since the start of term and there's not even a reason for it." His conscience did prick him a bit at that, because he actually knew perfectly well what was going on with Lily – even felt a little sorry for her – but he was all too aware of what the consequences would be for Dean if he revealed that. Besides, he did also think that she was overreacting a little.

Lily stared at him and her eyes flashed. "Just leave it alone, Black, if you've got any sense," she snarled.

"You want _me _to leave this alone?" Sirius retorted. "Well, why don't _you _try that? Try backing off and leaving it alone? In fact," he dropped his voice a little, "why don't you go and read that letter on your bed? Because I can think of two people off the top of my head who would be sending you a letter with Hendrix and they may just have some rather...interesting things to say to you."

He turned away from her and then, a minute later, when he heard the slam of an upstairs door, he clapped his hands together. "So. Breakfast?"


	19. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

When Severus entered the Slytherin common room that morning, he was rather confused to see an annoyed-looking grey owl sitting on the table and tapping its claws against the wood. When it saw Severus, it let out a loud screech and abruptly took off, though not without pausing to leave a deep gash on his hand when he tried to catch it.

"Ow!" he cried out, cradling his hand to stop it bleeding over his robes and the floor. "Stupid bird," he grumbled, apparently loud enough for the owl to turn around and glare at him. "Yes, that does mean you." He allowed himself a moment of immaturity when he stuck his tongue out at the bird as it flew away – and then let out a small laugh.

"Merlin's beard, I am losing it," he muttered. "I'm shouting at an owl. Again." He shook his head and sat down at the table, recollecting, with no small measure of embarrassment, the time he had found himself exchanging words with his own owl, Calamus – while standing on the corpse of a rat. _Not one of my most collected moments, that's for sure._

An amused chuckle drew his attention towards a chair by the fireplace where he saw Adam Pritchard watching him with sharp eyes. The light from the fire illuminated his gaze slightly, making Severus feel as though he was being overly scrutinised, but his smile was friendly, if a little mocking.

"You can't really be too upset at him," he said.

"Who?" asked Severus.

"That owl, of course. He was waiting for you for quite a while and that parcel did look pretty heavy."

"He could've just come into the dormitory!" retorted Severus. "You know, like most other owls do."

"He could," allowed Adam. "But then again, with the mood _your _owl has been in lately, can you blame him for not wanting to go near the place?"

"What, you think the owls have some sort of communication network that warns them of the mood other owls are in?" laughed Severus. "That's so ridiculous."

"Is it?" asked Adam. "Owls and other animals do interact with each other, you know. We just can't always understand, or hear, them."

Severus shrugged. "True." He sat down and looked into the fire, deep in thought.

"So, why has Cal been acting so odd then?" asked Adam. "He nearly bit my hand off yesterday."

Severus grimaced. "Yes, sorry about that. I don't know." It was true; his owl had been unusually violent recently. "Perhaps something happened that he didn't take too well."

"Or maybe he's possessed by Lord Voldemort!" hissed Adam, rolling his eyes when Severus gaped at him. "Yes, I said his name. So what?"

"Mmm," said Severus, trying to make it sound like he wasn't really bothered, but he didn't think he'd succeeded at all.

"So, what's in the parcel?" asked Adam, skilfully changing the course of the conversation. He came over and looked at Severus curiously.

"Oh, just a few things," said Severus vaguely. He was about to go back upstairs to the dormitory when Adam caught his arm and dragged him into the corner. "What?" he asked.

Adam's face was solemn and serious. "Listen, Severus," he said, "you need to be careful."

"I see," said Severus. "Now, if you could just be a little more specific about what I need to be careful of, that would be very helpful."

Adam sighed. "You know what I'm talking about, Severus. Your," he bit his lip, "inter-house relationships."

Severus glared at him. "It's none of your business who I'm friends with."

"Granted. But it is my business to make sure you don't put them in danger."

"I –" Severus stopped, almost speechless and barely able to hold back his outrage. "How dare you! I would _never _put them in danger!"

"Maybe not deliberately," said Adam, apparently unbothered by Severus's anger. "But there are some people here who don't exactly like them and would have no problems with…doing something about them." He glanced around the silent common room and dropped his voice further. "We both know that."

Severus barely managed to supress a shudder, but he spoke sharply. "What do you think you're doing, trying to tell me who my friends should and shouldn't be?"

This time, Adam looked hurt. "No. That's not what I'm trying to do at all. I know we've not known each other all that long, but I would have thought that you would at least know me well enough to know I'm not like that."

"Then what a_re _you saying?"

"I might not care who you make friends with – like you said, it's none of my business. But you know that there are people here who aren't going to feel the same way." He paused. "In the other houses besides Slytherin."

Severus nodded. "Noted. But perhaps things can change. There's nothing that makes pureblood witches and wizards any more special than half-bloods or Muggleborns."

"Of course not," agreed Adam. "The thing is, in this case," he sighed, "I don't think it's necessarily going to be just blood status that's the problem."

_Oh. _Severus bit his lip. It hadn't even_ o_ccurred to him to consider that Dean's past being so public could be such a large issue, but of course it would make sense that it would be. Hunters weren't exactly trusted by members of the magical community at the best of times, after all. Nonetheless, he stuck to his guns.

"I think Dean's different," he said. "He's not like other…people who do what he did. And I think he's strong enough not to care what other people think of him. After all he's seen and done, how could he not be?"

Adam sighed. "I hope you're right, Severus, for his sake as much as for yours."

"I know what I'm doing, Adam. Trust me on this."

* * *

><p>"Today," said Professor Flitwick, leaning over a pile of books to survey his class, "we are going to be starting practice on the Tickling Charm." He smiled understandingly at some of the surprised faces looking up at him. "Yes, I know this may seem unusual, considering the current climate, but Professor Dumbledore's wish is for life at Hogwarts to continue in as normal a fashion as possible for as long as possible. Besides," and here, his smile became more solemn, "it is surprising how often a seemingly humorous or everyday spell can end up saving a person's life."<p>

He paused for a moment, during which everyone stared at him, evidently wondering how he had managed to make the Tickling Charm life-saving. For a moment, the expression on his face made it appear as though he was going to tell them, but then he cleared his throat and clapped his hands. "So! Let's have a go at the incantation first – er, without wands, please, for now, just for practice. Ready?" He cleared his throat. "After me – _Rictusempra._"

"_Rictusempra_," the class chorused in unison.

"Very good," said Professor Flitwick, clapping his hands. "Now, I'm going to put you into pairs, but first, actually…"

He waved his wand in a large 'S' shape and, amidst a jet of pale pink light, the floor swam in front of their eyes before refocusing and appearing suddenly as if it had been turned into an apparently wooden bouncy castle.

"Softening Charm," he explained, "just in case of any unforeseen incidents, you know. Now," he clapped his hands again, "Mr. Stebbins if you could come here and work with…"

But at this point, Lily tuned out. She had felt her attention slipping a little during Professor Flitwick's lecture, but had forced herself to pay attention as well as she could. But now, she rested her chin on one hand and played absently with her quill, her eyes locked on the blonde head of the boy sitting in front of her.

She knew that she had been distracted in all her classes that morning, but she had just been unable to take her mind off what had happened before breakfast, from Sirius chastising her in the common room to going back up to the dormitory and finding that letter on her bed. She swallowed hard, barely managing to keep back her emotions as she recalled the hard-hitting words on that one piece of paper.

A hand on her arm made her jump and knock her wand to the ground. Feeling her cheeks heat up, she bent down to retrieve it, only for Professor Flitwick – who had been the one trying to catch her attention – to call it into his hand and return it to her. She took it with a violent blush and muttered, "Thank you, Professor," rather sheepishly.

But Professor Flitwick didn't leave. "Is everything all right, Miss Evans?" he asked. "I have been trying to attract your attention for some time now."

"Everything is fine, Professor," said Lily quietly. "I'm just tired, that's all."

"Hmm." Professor Flitwick studied her for a long moment before he shrugged. "Well, Miss Evans, if you could partner Miss Kennedy for the practice of this charm." He motioned behind him and Lily saw Niamh come over and sit in the now empty seat beside her.

"Yes, Professor," she said, before she turned to the other girl who was watching her curiously. "Do you want to go first or shall I?"

Niamh's gaze narrowed a little. "Is something wrong, Lily?"

"No, nothing," said Lily, more curtly than the situation probably warranted. "Now, shall I go first or will you?"

For a moment, she thought Niamh was going to insist on knowing what was wrong – she certainly didn't look remotely convinced by the answer she had received – but instead, she just shrugged. "You can go first."

It wasn't an easy spell, that much quickly became obvious. While the wrist movement and incantation were not difficult in themselves, the technique of ensuring the strength of the charm was. Some of the class – Lily herself included, as it happened – were being a little too tentative and the most they were managing to achieve was to make their partners flinch and twitch a little. Others, on the other hand, including James and Sirius, were managing to completely overdo the spell, resulting in Sirius falling off his chair and almost turning purple from laughing so hard. In the end, Professor Flitwick had to perform a counter curse in order to get the boy to calm down. He also set them both lines ("I must learn to control myself in the classroom!") and the expression that crossed James's face would have been hilarious had Lily not looked up and met Dean's eyes at that exact moment.

Immediately, she felt herself stiffen, her fist clenching around her wand, almost itching to throw a curse at him. Fortunately for her, before she could, Severus, who was working with Dean, tugged on his sleeve and whispered something in his ear. Dean started, blushed and abruptly turned away, just before Severus, with little more than a quick, searching glance between his two friends, picked up his own wand to perform the charm.

* * *

><p>"Okay, Lily," said Alice, folding her arms. "Now do you want to tell us what that was about?"<p>

Sirius, who had been passing at that point, stopped and frowned, absently motioning for Remus, James and Peter to go on without him. Ignoring the confused – and, in Remus's case, slightly disapproving – looks they gave him as they left, he hid in an alcove out of sight from the Gryffindor first-year girls, just in time to hear Lily say she had no idea what Alice was talking about.

"Of course you do," snorted Mary McDonald. "You were so busy glaring at the back of Dean Winchester's head, it took you ten minutes to notice Niamh had set your robes on fire!"

"For which, again, I'm really sorry," piped up Niamh.

"I wasn't glaring at the back of his head," replied Lily. "His head just happened to be in line with where my eyes were."

It was an awful excuse and Sirius had to bite his lip so that he wouldn't give himself away by laughing.

"What happened between you two anyway?" asked Mary. "You seemed to be getting on fine before Christmas, but now you won't even talk to him. And Sirius yelled at you earlier, too. What's going on?" Her voice suddenly hardened. "What did he do, Lily?"

"Let's just say something happened and leave it at that," said Lily coolly. "It's none of your business anyway."

"But he was always so nice," said Niamh. "And he used to make you laugh. You said he and Remus were the only two out of that group who you didn't want to slap at least once a day."

"Well, maybe I was wrong," said Lily. "Perhaps I realised that I'd had enough of his ridiculous games and his stupid lies."

That was too much for Sirius. He came round the corner and glared at Lily. "Didn't you get the message earlier?" he asked her scathingly. "About not being nasty to my friends?"

"I'm sure Dean is more than capable of standing up for himself," retorted Lily almost immediately. "And he wouldn't thank you for fighting his battles for him – again."

Sirius growled and turned to the other girls. "For what it's worth, Dean would never lie to someone he cares about," he said and then he gripped Lily's elbow and dragged her away from her friends. "You really have no idea about him, do you? Well, let me tell you, he's not as tough as he seems to be." His voice turned quieter. "That's just a mask, Evans, one he hides behind so he won't get hurt – and one he's been hiding behind far too much since the start of term, if you ask me."

"Well, I wasn't asking you," replied Lily. "And what would you know about hiding?"

"It takes one to know one," said Sirius. "But that's not the point. The point is, enough is enough. You can't treat Dean like this, regardless of what he told you on the train. He wouldn't have lied –"

"What are you talking about?" interrupted Lily, her eyes flashing suddenly. "What do you know about –" she stopped and the colour began to leech out of her face. "Oh my God," he whispered. "He…he told you, didn't he?"

"Told…who told me what?" asked Sirius, bewildered.

"It doesn't matter," snapped Lily, "because it is not true! None of it's true, got it?" Without waiting for a response, she turned and stalked off towards the Great Hall.

Sirius blinked and stared after her. "Okay. What in Merlin's name just happened?"

* * *

><p>"Why are we here?" asked Dean. He looked around nervously, half-expecting someone or something to jump out at him. His fingers rummaged around in his pocket and tightened around the handle of his wand, ready to draw it at a moment's notice.<p>

Apparently, this did not go unnoticed, because Severus – who until a moment ago had been pacing up and down in front of a wall – raised an eyebrow at him. "If I wanted to attack you, I could easily have done it already," he said with a slightly crooked smile. "As for why we're here, I wanted to show you something."

Dean wanted to say something else, but when he looked up and saw the wooden door in the wall where Severus had been pacing, the words died in his throat.

He blinked several times. The door did not fade away. In fact, the brass handle seemed to glow even brighter than before.

"Okay," he said slowly, "that wasn't there five minutes ago. What is it?"

"Don't know, really," said Severus. "I found it almost by accident when I was getting away from the last prank your stupid –" he stopped and frowned, shaking his head. "Well, anyway, I was thinking that I needed somewhere to hide and this door just appeared."

Dean bit his lip, knowing now wasn't the right moment to mention that Severus hadn't exactly been friendly to the rest of the Marauders – apart from Remus, and he had a feeling that might change if he found out Remus's secret – and instead he remarked, "This place gets weirder and weirder."

Severus laughed. "Come and see." He pushed open the door and ushered Dean inside after him. "It changes depending on what you want it to be."

"Holy crap," said Dean, looking around with wide eyes. The room wasn't very large, but it was well-lit with softly flickering torches. A large and comfortable sofa was in the middle of the room and with squashy cushions of several different sizes. Beside it was a small table with something on top of it that Dean couldn't quite identify. "So…what did you ask the room to be?" he asked as his fingers relaxed slightly around his wand.

"Somewhere I could give you your birthday present," replied Severus. "I didn't think I should give it to you in front of your other friends. I'd never be able to convince them that it's harmless – which it is!" he added quickly.

"I believe you," laughed Dean. "But you really didn't have to get me anything, Sev. I mean, I missed your birthday." He shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, remembering how he had suddenly been called home the day before his friend's birthday and, what with everything that had gone on, he had completely forgotten about it until over a week later. Severus himself hadn't been too bothered, but Dean still felt guilty about it.

"You were busy," said Severus with a shrug. "Anyway, come on!" He rushed over and dropped onto the sofa and Dean, laughing at his friend's excitement, followed and sat down beside him.

Only then did he notice that the object which had been sat on the table next to them – and was now being held in Severus's lap – was a small parcel wrapped in old pages from the _Daily Prophet_. "What's –"

"Oh, right." An almost unnatural flush covered Severus's usually pale face as he shoved the parcel into Dean's hands. "Happy birthday, Dean."

Dean looked at him curiously, but he said nothing as he unwrapped the newspapers, still silently marvelling at the way the pictures moved before his eyes.

Severus watched him with amusement. "If I'd known you were going to get so excited about the wizarding world, I'd have just gotten you a subscription to the _Daily Prophet_," he remarked.

"Oh!" Dean felt his face heat up. "Right. Sorry." He removed the paper more quickly – but no less carefully – until he revealed a box decorated with animals carved into the wood. It was tightly wrapped up in thick plastic, but even through that, Dean could still smell the richness of the wood.

"It's charmed," explained Severus, "to open only at the touch of the first person who lays their skin on it. That's why it's wrapped so tightly – you can't risk anyone but the person it's meant for touching it. The wizards who work on making them have to wear clothes that cover their entire bodies so that their skin doesn't accidentally touch the boxes. And I thought you might want somewhere to keep your personal things – stuff that's private, you know."

"It's great," said Dean fervently. He undid the plastic wrapping with trembling fingers and held the box carefully in his hands. As he did so, a warmth began to flow through him, straight to the tips of his fingers, culminating in a shimmering purple light which consumed the box briefly and then, with a strange noise almost like a sigh, it disappeared, leaving the box exactly as it had been, except that now there was a strange feeling of familiarity about it that had not been there before.

"Can you tell the difference?" Severus's voice was very soft. "It's accepted you as its owner. Now, you're the only one who can open it. Not even someone disguised as you will be able to get into it."

"It's…" but Dean couldn't find the right words to express his feelings, so he simply finished with, "Thanks, Severus."

"Well, everyone needs a little privacy," said Severus with a soft laugh. "It's why I come here a lot; I can get my homework done in peace without anyone bothering me."

Dean smiled. "I won't tell anyone. It'll be our little secret."

"Not even your friends?" asked Severus.

"Especially not my friends," said Dean firmly. "And, speaking of them," he added as he reached into his bag, "I may just have an idea…"

* * *

><p>Half an hour later, Dean stepped up to the entrance to the Gryffindor common room, feeling happier than he had for most of the day. The Fat Lady, upon seeing him, raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching a little.<p>

"Well!" she said. "Looks like this place has worked wonders on you, I must say! You were a right skinny smart-mouth when I first met you!"

"I'm still a smart-mouth," retorted Dean, though he couldn't help smiling at the comment.

"True," said the Fat Lady, pursing her lips in slight disapproval, "but somehow you do amuse me, and it has been…oh, far too long since that has happened." She gave him a long wink. "Especially from such a handsome young man –"

"Gimble – gimblemir!" spluttered Dean, feeling his cheeks heat up. He scrambled through the portrait hole, the Fat Lady's chuckling ringing in his ears.

But he didn't have long to dwell on the portrait's sudden – and disturbing – apparent attraction to him. As soon as he stepped into the room, Lily stood up and rushed to him, looking upset and angry.

"Why?" she choked out. "Of all the people, Dean – why did you have to tell _him_?"

"Tell who what?" asked Dean, bewildered.

"You know what!" snapped Lily. "Those…those lies about my dad being a hunter! How could you –"

"I never told anybody about that!" interrupted Dean. "I wouldn't do that to you."

"Really? Then how come _he,_" she pointed at Sirius, who seemed to be trying to disappear into the cushions, "seems to know about it?"

"I don't know," answered Dean. "But I swear to you, Lily, I never told anyone. I knew that you wouldn't want your dad's past becoming public knowledge."

"Although," interjected James, "you've managed to accomplish that pretty well on your own, Evans."

"What do you –" but as Lily rounded on James, it immediately became obvious that everyone in the common room – meaning most of Gryffindor house – was staring at her, some with sympathy, others with more confused and hostile expressions. She stumbled backwards and then, with a harsh sob, she ran out of the common room and up the stairs to the girls' dormitory. Alice, Mary and Niamh looked at each other in concern, but in the end, only Alice followed her.

Dean sighed. "Oh, God."

"Don't worry," said Remus, pulling him down to sit next to him, "she'll come round."

"Of course she will," said Sirius. "Just give her time to realise that it's not really you she's upset with."

Dean frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Deep down, she knows that you were telling the truth and you would never lie about something like this," said Sirius. "But at the moment, she's really angry with her dad for keeping this a secret from her."

"And she's taking it out on you," continued Remus. "It's not right and it's not fair, but she will realise that soon. Although," and his jaw tightened just a little, "I must admit, I'm not sure how willing I'd be to accept it straight away when she does."

James looked shocked. "As much as I agree with you, Remus, I never thought I'd hear you say that."

"Well, now you have." Remus scratched out a sentence in his essay. "Sirius was right this morning. I can understand that she's upset, but she isn't being fair." He glanced almost ruefully at Sirius. "You know, if you hadn't told her first, I'd tell her that myself."

"We could always –" began Peter.

"No," said Dean firmly. "We're not pranking her. I like a joke as much as anyone, but it'll just make things worse this time. Let's just leave her alone." He pulled out his Defence Against the Dark Arts homework and started checking his essay against the information in the book while resolutely ignoring the worried looks his friends were sending his way.


End file.
